


i need some reasons to live (maybe you could show me some)

by jaesungs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Celebrity Jaemin, Drug Addiction, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Hospitals, M/M, Read the warnings, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, dark themes, heavy drug use, overdoses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaesungs/pseuds/jaesungs
Summary: “It seems to me that love could be labeled poison and we’d drink it anyways” — AtticusWhen the high-wired member of the most popular boy band in South Korea—Dream Suites—Na Jaemin goes missing in the middle of his world tour, the whole world begins to search for signs of him. The chances of finding him are slim, but the reward for doing so entails the chance of receiving close to five-hundred thousand dollars from his company.Little do people know that he’s taken refuge in a small rural town in the outskirts of Seoul. A place with less than ten stop-lights and the closest legitimate university is two hours away. In this town, he meets Lee Jeno: a cashier at the local 24-hour convenience store and a student at the local college. The best thing about Jeno is that he has no idea who Na Jaemin is, and instead learns about Jaem.But, fairytale bliss never lasts. Not for people who essentially have a bounty over their head. Not for people with a drug addiction and millions of fans constantly on the hunt for them. As Jaemin is forced to fall headfirst back into the spotlight, the fake life he’d spent months building slips right through his fingertips just like that.





	1. epigraph

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dark and purely fiction!!!!!!! it explores dark themes like heavy drug abuse and overdoses. the fic explores the idea that people, idols more specifically, are not what we see. i.e: idols abusing drugs. it puts kpop companies and idols in a very rough and realistic light. don't read if you are not comfortable with this. 
> 
> i do not believe the dreamies abuse drugs by any means. i do not believe really any of what is depicted in this writing is reality!! please, please be able to differentiate reality with fiction. there is no sexual content because sexualizing minors is disgusting. thank you! hope you're ready for a long ass ride full of angst.
> 
> [edit 4.17.19] title: ozone by chase atlantic

“You only know me as you see me, not as I really am.”  
— Immanuel Kant


	2. one

“Jaemin!” Mark called out, drunk off his ass, and stumbling towards the younger with glossy eyes and sweat dripping off his forehead. The bass of the song influenced his movements as he swayed side to side with the beat, different people all around him. 

Jaemin sighed and pushed his way through the mass of bodies in the club, different idols grinding on each other. Jaemin liked the club well enough, even with its shitty lighting and even shittier music. It was a place that nearly half of the K-pop idols came to just let loose every once and awhile. It was one of the few clubs that they could all come to because they all had the same amount to lose.

“Renjun,” Mark whined, drawing out the N in an unbearably high pitched voice. Jaemin stood next to Mark as he danced to the music, eyes searching for Renjun. He found him with Hyuck, twirling around as the musician blasted.

“You’re the only one not having fun,” Mark mumbled against his neck as he pulled the younger closer so he could hear him over the music. “The point of coming here is to have fun.”

“I’m surprised you can even think considering how wasted you are,” Jaemin shrugged, but didn’t otherwise argue with Mark. He wasn’t having fun because he was tired and wanted to go home to sleep, but he had let his band drag him out by mistake.

Their world tour was coming up soon, less than a month away and their company was already cramming in more hours of practice than hours of daylight. The managers were on their asses about every wrong note, every missed dance step, every voice crack. Jaemin was practically surviving off coffee at this point, not that it was any different from any other day. 

The party raged on around him and he tried to get lost in the movement of the club. The crowd of people all moved as one. Jaemin and Mark danced next to some girl idols from JYP and boy idols from Cube. They never talked to each other or even acted like they knew each other. 

Still, it felt all too familiar. And, Jaemin knew it was because when they left the party, they’d all be going back to the same thing. Once they stepped foot outside, they were back to their idol mode. But, in that club, they didn’t have to be anything. They could just exist, just be.

Around three A.M., Mark was dragging ass. He had too much to drink, too much to snort, and too much dancing. Jaemin decided it was time to get them home, so he called their managers because they couldn’t risk being recognized by anyone in public. Their squeaky-clean images couldn’t be trashed so close to tour.

Another reason Jaemin didn’t want to come out tonight—they start their world tour in Seoul and if there was a scandal, the first show would be completely and utterly fucked. 

He was surprised when their managers said they could go clubbing. But, he figured that they knew no matter what they said they’d go anyway, especially with Mark leading the group. Mark was a good leader, an excellent rapper and dancer, but he was also so reckless that it turned into disregard for the rules of being an idol.

Jaemin knew it had something to do with the fact that management was constantly on his ass about something. He acted impulsively as if to say “Fuck you” to their management that overworked them and underpaid them.

Jaemin took ahold of Mark’s wrist and dragged him toward the other two. “C’mon,” Jaemin groaned as Mark stumbled around. He greeted the other two who weren’t as badly off. Jaemin can tell just by the smell that one of them had been smoking pot and he doesn’t doubt one of them had taken something else. 

Hyuck’s drug of choice had always been ecstasy, Mark’s was cocaine, and Renjun preferred to stay away from the hard drugs. Jaemin didn’t have an opinion on which were worse or better. He only used them on the really hard days. He’d rather enjoy a scalding hot cup of coffee over snorting. 

“We gotta go,” Jaemin announced, fingers still firmly wrapped around Mark’s wrist as the oldest wiggled in a vain attempt to get away. Renjun, the least fucked up after Jaemin, nodded and grabbed ahold of Hyuck’s hand.

The four of them pushed their way out of club towards the back entrance, none of them bidding goodbyes to the other idols. The car was waiting for them at the back door and Jaemin helped the four climb inside. Their driver didn’t greet them with more than a simple hello.

As Jaemin sat in the passenger's side of the car, he turned the radio up and their song blasted through the stereo. He sighed and changed the station, not wanting to hear the same song he had to practice day in and day out for any reason other than having to rehearse or perform it.

They arrived back at the dorms around four A.M., and Jaemin already knew that practice the next day was going to be literal hell on earth. Not only was he going to be surrounded by hungover, pissed off people, but he was also going to be tired as fuck too. 

The driver helped him carry Mark inside the dorm. Jaemin thanked him as he went out the front door back to the car. Mark crashed on the couch and Jaemin didn’t have the energy to drag him to bed, so he left him there with a glass of water and painkillers on the table next to him. He couldn’t find Hyuck anywhere so he figured he went off somewhere with Renjun and didn’t worry too much.

Jaemin finally staggered to his bed and fell face first into his tangled sheets. He tore off his jeans and fell asleep, silently begging that the time change back to eight p.m. so that he wouldn’t be exhausted when he woke up in the morning.

+

His alarm went off at seven A.M., waking up the whole dorm. He groaned and rolled over to shut it off. His eyes barely opened as he stumbled to his bathroom and then to the kitchen. He wore some sweats he found on his floor. 

Guessing from the heaving sounds coming from the bathroom, Jaemin reckoned that Mark was awake. He walked toward the bathroom off the living room, noticing that the door was left open and the light was off, so the only brightness was coming from the windows.

“Here,” Jaemin held out a glass of water which Mark took as he backed away from the toilet. Jaemin didn’t dare to look by the toilet, instead, he just backed up toward the doorway. “You want anything to eat?” Mark shook his head. “Okay.”

Jaemin left the bathroom, letting Mark sit in silence and think about what he could remember of their night out. He walked back into the kitchen and was greeted by Hyuck cooking, or attempting to cook, something that looked remotely like eggs. Renjun sat at the table half watching him, half scrolling through his phone.

“Something’s burning,” Jaemin announced as he peered over Hyuck’s shoulder. Hyuck was indeed burning the shit out of the scrambled eggs. 

Hyuck shrugged. “Still edible.”

“Probably not,” Jaemin pursed his lips before grabbing some orange juice from the fridge and three cups from the cabinets. “Injun,” he pouted, walking over to the table. “Plates.”

Renjun rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone as he stood up. He grabbed some plates and silverware for them. He placed them on the table and sat back down in his seat.

“You not feeling bad?” Jaemin asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Didn’t get that high. I think Hyuck hasn’t come down yet, though,” Renjun mumbled, not looking up from his phone.

Jaemin nodded. “Mark’s hungover like a bitch.”

Renjun snorted. “Not surprised. He still has to come down off his too.”

“Probably shouldn’t have let him get so fucked,” Jaemin bit his lip, feeling partly responsible.

“He’s our leader. We don’t control him.”

They stopped talking when Hyuck started the blender. The place wreaked of burnt food and some kind of fruit, but nobody said a word to Hyuck about it. They waited for Hyuck to bring everything to the table. The burnt eggs on a plate, some kind of rice he probably cooked incorrectly, and what looked like eight cups worth of smoothie.

Renjun made eye contact with Jaemin, eyes pleading with him to not make him eat it. But, Hyuck just kissed him on the forehead and dished burnt eggs onto his plate. He did the same for Jaemin, minus the kiss, and then poured smoothie into everyone’s cups, ignoring the overflow.

Jaemin sighed as he looked at the neglected orange juice on the table and took a sip of Hyuck’s smoothie, which was so green Jaemin assumed he put spinach in it. As the taste hit him, he realized Hyuck mixed just about every green fruit and vegetable they had in the fridge. He nearly choked on the taste but forced himself to swallow it.

“Good?” Hyuck asked the two as he sipped his smoothie as well. 

“Yeah,” Jaemin lied, a smile crossing over his face. Renjun just nodded and poked around his eggs with his fork. Jaemin tasted the rice and deemed it edible enough, but avoided the eggs at all costs.

Fifteen minutes later, Mark hobbled into the kitchen and sat down in the empty seat at the table. He didn’t say a word as he downed half of Hyuck’s smoothie. He looked at the food Hyuck scooped onto the plate for him and frowned. He pushed it away but drank the rest of his smoothie.  
Jaemin offered the older his 3/4ths of the way done drink and gladly handed it over when Mark reached for it.

Time passed by too quickly. Soon enough, it was time for the four of them to go to practice. They all stuck in their earpods and ignored each other for the drive and for the first ten minutes before practice began. Jaemin had a habit for listening to music that was ten years old and what most consider outdated. Mark, on the other hand, had a habit for listening to western music that used the word “fuck” an incessant amount of times as it blasted through the car.

Nobody said a word. Jaemin thought it was because Mark was his leader, his hyung after all and he wasn’t nearly as disrespectful as Renjun and Hyuck could be. But, in the back of his mind, he also thought maybe it was because they didn’t really know what to say to each other. 

+

“Wouldn’t it be nice to disappear?” Jaemin asked Renjun a few weeks later. Their tour started in three days and everyone was in full prep mode. They had to prepare the clothes, the makeup, the tickets, the hotels. Everything had to be ready to go. Not to mention, the venues had to be dealt with, the fans had to be appeased, the dances had to go off without a hitch.

Renjun snorted. They were the only two still awake because they were the overthinkers in the band. Again, Mark was reckless and Hyuck was even more reckless, so Renjun and Jaemin were convinced that they didn’t even have rational thoughts. Probably not far off from the truth, either.

“Yeah,” Renjun agreed, nodding his head as they both sat on the couch in their dorm. “It would be.”

“I mean, we could do it,” Jaemin mumbled, eyes trained on the TV in front of them. “Just leave.”

Renjun paused like he didn’t know what to say. Finally, “Probably. But, probably not.”

“That was contradictory,” Jaemin said because he didn’t really know what else to say. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“I don’t think it is,” Renjun argued half-heartedly like he didn’t have the energy to have a full-on debate about it. His eyes were half-shut and he was probably dying to go to bed. Jaemin felt the same. 

Renjun didn’t elaborate, so Jaemin asked him another question. “If you had the option to disappear, would you?”

It was quiet for so long that Jaemin thought maybe Renjun had fallen asleep. Jaemin didn’t look over at the older boy, didn’t even have the energy to do so.

But, eventually, he answered the question. “Yeah.”

Jaemin didn’t know what he was expecting, really. Maybe he expected no to be Renjun’s answer, but he also expected yes. The thing about Renjun and Jaemin that they had in common was the fact that they were both amazing at putting on happy faces while also feeling sad on the inside. Jaemin could fake a smile well and Renjun could too.

Maybe because they were trained that way. They practiced their fake smiles before debut. They practiced looking happy during performances, mainly for the times their management ran out of coke and they had to go on stage sober.

Nonetheless, they were good at acting. They were shit liars when it came to their friends, but when it came to the outside world, they were masters at it. It was one of the first parts of training...before singing and rapping and dancing came lying. If you couldn’t look someone in the face and tell them a lie, you were kicked out before they tested your other abilities.

Jaemin thought it was absurd when he walked in and they told him to lie about something in his life. He told them that his mother died when he was eight and that he thought about her every single day, even shed a few tears. He was given the golden ticket into the audition room. 

Still, what they had in common united them and separated them. Jaemin was probably the more depressed of the two, although he wasn’t sure what pills Renjun popped when no one was watching. And if he had to take a shot at who would probably disappear first he would say himself. 

“I think I would do it after tour started,” Jaemin announced to the room, although they were the only two there. “Because I’d be a billion dollars richer.”

Renjun chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed himself up and started walking in the direction of Mark and Hyuck’s room. “That’s crazy. What’s the point of being rich if you’re dead.”

“That’s implying that I die,” Jaemin cocked his head to the side.

“You’re implying that you won’t,” Renjun replied, yawning, “and we both know if we’re going to die anywhere, it’ll be on tour.”

Jaemin couldn’t even argue with him. He simply laid down on the couch and fell asleep until Hyuck’s blending woke him up the next day.

+

As Jaemin stood on the stage of the arena, fans screaming around him, he realized that he didn’t want another second of it. The lights were blinding and the cheers were deafening, but at that moment, he couldn’t imagine doing this again, especially for the next seven or eight months of his life.

He couldn’t. It was so exhausting, and by the time that the show was ending, they were all coming off their highs and they were only allowed one hit per show. Management said it was to keep them from being dependent on it, as if they weren’t already. Jaemin knew it was because it was easier to hide the white powder around their noses because shooting it up would risk even more scandals. White powder could be blamed on the makeup artists, needle holes could not be.

“Thank you!” Mark yelled again as the lights dimmed. Jaemin waved and put on his good boy smile and then walked off the stage, following Mark. 

As soon as they made it back to the dressing rooms, Jaemin collapsed onto the couch covered in clothing from all the wardrobe changes. He ignored the protests of their stylists and didn’t complain when Hyuck fell on top of him, face soaked with sweat and bangs sticking to his forehead.

“Good show,” Hyuck muttered, nuzzling into the crook of Jaemin’s neck. Jaemin didn’t fight him on it, just let him go.

“Yeah,” Jaemin said back even though it wasn’t a good show at all. He fucked up the choreography twice and forgot the words to one of his verses in two songs.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Hyuck answered as though he could hear Jaemin’s thoughts. He was too good at that. “You did well.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, getting undressed so that the stylists could wash his clothes and plan his outfit for the show the next day. “It was a really good first show.”

Jaemin hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. Everyone crashed ten minutes later, Jaemin was pretty good at coming down. His mood was affected, crankiness and being shitty in general, but other than that, he was good. Hyuck got nauseous and Renjun always helped him through it. Mark usually slept through his crashes and someone carried him to the car because it was easier than trying to deal with him.

+

The disappearing thing became a game between Renjun and Jaemin during their off days. They would plan their disappearance. Things like how, where they’d go, how they’d get money. Renjun thought it was funny, Jaemin took notes because Renjun was a genius. 

He knew realistically he couldn’t follow Renjun’s plans exactly because Renjun would know where to find him if he left, but he knew that using parts of his plans would help him be better off. The more he thought about it, the greater the need to just run away came. 

They say that if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind, but Jaemin couldn’t just forget it. Because as the tour wore on, the days grew longer. Nights became morning without him sleeping a wink. The days dragged on. He barely got a second to breathe alone. It was truly suffocating. 

Nobody could blame him for wanting to escape. Not when they were only four months into their eight-month-long tour. Not when one hit stopped being enough to keep him hyped the whole concert. Not when his nose started bleeding after every concert and his veins started to itch with the need for cocaine. Not when the fighting between them became so bad that Mark nearly knocked Hyuck out. Not when he nearly overdosed on Molly because they ran out of the coke. Not when he spent most of his days hungover or crashing. Not when all the color of life slowly started to trickle out, starting with the yellow of the sun and then the color of the ocean. Not when life suddenly stopped being worth living.


	3. two

—one month later—

“That’s a lot of coffee,” the boy at the cash register said, eyeing the four boxes of Keurig coffee cups Jaemin had put on the conveyor belt. He had black hair covering his forehead and glasses on that covered nearly his whole face.

Jaemin pursed his lips, looking at the credit card in his hand before looking back up and reading the nametag on the front of the boy’s blue polo. Jeno. “I’m a bit of an addict.”

Jeno smiled, eyes turning into little crescents like Jaemin had never seen before. “Same. Uni really kicks ass.”

“You’re a Uni student?” Jaemin crossed his arms over his chest, freezing in the empty grocery store he had stopped at as he drove too fast from Seoul. He was on the outskirts of Seoul, right on the edge of the city in the middle of the countryside. He liked the peacefulness of it. He found it much more interesting than the overcrowded city. It flooded with character.

Jeno pouted a little. “Yeah. Hence why I work here,” he gestured around. “Too bad I always get stuck with the worst shifts.”

Jaemin looked down at his phone which was exploding with messages. He noticed the time. “I didn’t even know they had people who worked four a.m. shifts as QuikMart.”

Jeno laughed. “Pays better, oddly enough. Nobody wants them, so they have to give better incentives.” He finished ringing up the last of Jaemin’s coffee, double bagging the boxes. “Sixty-eight even.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow as he looked at the actual price on the credit card scanner. “It says 68.92 here.”

“I feel bad for you because you look tired, so I rounded.”

“Technically you should’ve rounded up,” Jaemin said, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Will you just pay for your absurd amount of coffee already?” 

Jaemin swiped his card and asked for fifty dollars cash back. Jeno cocked his head to his right, Jaemin’s left, but opened the register and took out two twenties and a ten. He offered them to Jaemin, but the latter shook his head.

“Keep it.”

“I can’t,” Jeno argued, shoving the money at Jaemin. 

“Yes, you can. You’re a broke Uni student working at QuikMart on a Wednesday at four A.M. I think you need it more than I do.” Jaemin gathered his two bags of coffee. 

“This feels wrong,” Jeno said, shaking his head slowly as he retracted his hand and began to fold the money up. “Like, really wrong.”

Jaemin shrugged and smiled a little bit. Jeno was so different compared to everyone else he’s ever met in his entire life. Over half the people he’s met would take the fifty from him and wouldn’t hesitate to ask him for a thousand more. “Think of it as my good deed for the month. You couldn’t possibly deny me the opportunity to do a good deed.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Jeno stuck the money in the front pocket of his QuikMart vest. “No, but seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jaemin waved his hand like it was no big deal. He turned to walk away, but the boy stopped him.

“Who are you?” Jeno coughed. “No, I mean, what’s your name? I feel like I’ve seen you around before.”

Jaemin spun around on the heel of his shoe and bit his lip. No, please, no. “My name’s Jaem.” He bit the tip of his tongue. “I think I just have one of those faces.”

Jeno shook his head. “No, I would definitely remember if I saw someone like you around here. The countryside is so small we only have, like, five stoplights total.” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t know, which, I mean, is fine. I think I’m really out of it right now.”

Jaemin giggled. “You should go home.”

“Nah,” Jeno yawned. “I’m the only one covering this shift.”

“You need company?” left Jaemin’s mouth before he realized what he was even saying. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He was supposed to leave as soon as possible and get to fucking anywhere but Seoul before it hit five A.M. 

“If you want to stay,” Jeno said, the light above him beginning to flicker. “Then sure.”

Jaemin bit his lip, silently cursing himself. This was such a mistake. Such a mistake. But, he still sat his bags of coffee on the conveyor belt before he leaned against it. “Okay.”

Jeno smiled brightly and Jaemin knew that this would be one-hundred percent worth it. “Follow me.” Jeno left from behind the counter and started walking, not looking to see if Jaemin was following. 

Jaemin picked up his bags and ran after Jeno, who was nearly three yards ahead of him. “You walk fast,” he commented when he caught up with the cashier.

“You have to be fast when customers are dumb and can’t find items,” Jeno pulled a lanyard full of keys out of one of the pockets on his vest and stood in front of a bare beige door located near the bathrooms. He unlocked the door by putting the key in the door handle and pushed the door in. “Wahlaa,” he said, spreading his arms out and smiling.

It was just a plain white room with one loveseat and small flat screen TV. Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “Nice...room?”

“Oh, Jaem,” Jeno sighed. The name felt foreign to Jaemin’s ears. “When you work in retail, you learn to treasure all the alone time you get, even if it’s in a room like this.”

Jaemin laughed as he explored the rest of the room, noticing that small parts of Jeno were there, like extra name tags and t-shirts and socks. “Do you like working here?”

Jeno plopped down onto the loveseat, patting the cushion next to him. Jaemin sat down. “It’s okay. Not the dream job, but good enough. What do you do?”

Jaemin bit his lip. “Aspiring rapper.”

“Really?” Jeno smiled.

“What?” Jaemin asked, a little curious.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“No, tell me,” Jaemin persisted.

“It’s just, I thought you would’ve been an aspiring model. Or a business major.” Jeno turned the TV on and The Lion King started to play from the beginning. “Sorry,” he blushed, “I’m an avid Disney fan.”

Jaemin shook his head, smiling a little. “I’ve never seen this one.”

Jeno gasped. “You’re kidding, right? Please say sike.” Jaemin shrugged his shoulders and Jeno acted like he was melting off the couch, sliding off until his ass hit the floor. “Guess we have to watch it now. Let me go close the store, though.”

Jaemin nodded as Jeno pushed himself off the floor and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. “Will you get in trouble for closing a twenty-four-hour store?” Jaemin yelled, knowing that the store was small enough Jeno could basically hear him from anywhere.

“Probably not!” Jeno screamed back.

Jaemin sat there for a minute, wondering if he was really going to do this. He would be an idiot to stay and try to act like he could go incognito in the small town. He would be insane to spend another minute with Jeno.

But, he was a little bit crazy because when Jeno came bounding back into the room, he couldn’t help but smile. Lee Jeno was something else.

He flicked off the lights before he settled down on the loveseat next to Jaemin. He was close, but not too close. It felt familiar and safe, like he’d sat next to Jeno a million times before.

+

Jaemin ended up giving Jeno a ride home around seven A.M., as new workers began their shifts. He was dead tired and could barely see, but Jeno said that he usually took the bus home. Jaemin could not let someone as sleep deprived as Jeno take the bus home.

“You’re going to turn in, like, now!” Jeno said.

Jaemin took a hard left onto the street. “Give me more warning next time?”

“Sorry. I always forget that the street signed is covered.”

“It’s fine.” Jaemin drove straight for a couple more minutes before arriving at an apartment building that looked like it couldn’t pass a health inspection.

“Stop making that face.”

“I’m not making a face,” Jaemin lied. He pulled to a stop in a parking lot and grimaced.

“That,” Jeno pointed at him, “that face. Stop it.”

Jaemin hesitated for a moment. “It’s...it’s lovely.”

Jeno groaned. “I can only do so much. Uni is expensive.”

“Is this place even safe.”

“Yeah, there’s only, like, five gunshots a week.” Jeno grabbed his bag.

“I feel like because we spent a whole night watching Disney movies together I can’t let you out of this car right now. Like, this place gives me the chills.”

Jeno rolled his eyes rather dramatically. “You’re overreacting, Mr. Rich Boy. I grew up in this area of town. Everyone knows me. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay...if you say so.” Jaemin was still apprehensive, but he’d only met Jeno less than five hours ago, so he didn’t have much say. He unlocked the car doors.

Jeno went to open the door before stopping himself. “Y-you can come inside. The inside is much better than the outside. Unless you have someplace you have to be.”

It was another bad decision on Jaemin’s part. He did have some place to be like Italy or France. But, he was a sucker for Lee Jeno already. “If I hear one fucking gunshot I’m fucking, like, offing myself.”

Jeno laughed, eyes burning with exhaustion. “If you don’t mean it, I’d take it back.”

And as if on cue, there was a gunshot. Jaemin flinched hard, hands instinctively covering his face and neck, but Jeno sat there and laughed. “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

“You will not, you big baby. I don’t know where you came from, but around here, you get used to it. Let’s go. I’m tired and hungry.” Jeno got out of the car and started to walk into his building, not bothering to check if Jaemin was behind him. The younger fumbled with his keys as he attempted to lock the car and simultaneously run after Jeno.

The lobby was pretty simple. There was a front desk with no one sitting at it and a couple of tables and chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. “What’s the point of having a receptionist desk with no receptionist?”

“We have one,” Jeno said, walking past it and into the mailroom. “But, I’m pretty sure she got arrested for, like, illegal drug possession or something. This one time, I think I saw her snorting meth at the counter.”

Jaemin was silent.

“I’m totally joking,” Jeno laughed, nudging him with his elbow. He pulled out his lanyard with keys on it and opened his mailbox.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not totally joking?” Jaemin examined the room. It was bland with army green walls and gray, metal mailboxes in rows and columns. Jeno was box number 138.

“Because I wasn’t,” Jeno admitted, absentmindedly flipping through the magazines he received, eyes half-ass searching for bills.

“I’m pretty sure your front door was made of bulletproof glass,” Jaemin noted.

“Pretty sure all the windows are made of that stuff.” Jeno tucked his mail into his backpack. “Let’s go. It’s a long walk up to my apartment.”

When Jeno said it was a long walk, he meant it. Jeno referred to the elevator as a “Hellavator that will only get you A) killed, B) stuck, or C) killed”, they had to walk two flights of steps. The place was a like a ghost city because Jeno only saw one other person (an elderly lady who had a poodle and seemed lovely).

“My humble abode,” Jeno said as he opened the door and gestured Jaemin inside. In contrast with the rest of the plain building, Jeno’s apartment was overflowing with color. His walls were plain white, but each was covered in pictures and paintings.

“Did you paint this?” Jaemin asked as he admired the one in the doorway. It was a mural of a girl, her face was a multitude of oranges, yellows, and reds. Blues and purples were scattered throughout.

“Yup,” Jeno dropped his bag on the floor and slipped off his shoes. “Just for fun.”

“It’s amazing,” Jaemin said honestly.

“Thank you,” Jeno mumbled. He scratched the back of his neck. “Here, we still have a living room and a bedroom.”

Jaemin walked away from the painting and into the connecting living room. The room was small, void of a TV, and filled with flowers instead. “It smells like a floral shop in here.”

Jeno smiled. “It covers the dead body smell.” He waited for a second as Jaemin stared at him with his mouth hung open. “Oh my god, I’m totally fucking with you. No one died here.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Jaemin looked at the brownish-red stain on the carpet. “This looks like blood.”

“That was here when I moved in.” Jeno waltzed around the room, fingers running across the back of his green patchwork couch. 

“You cannot live here,” Jaemin shook his head, top lip curled up as he saw a different stain on the carpet. “I won’t allow it.”

“Well, you don’t really have a house you can move into now do you?” 

Jaemin pursed his lips. “I don’t actually have anywhere to stay unless you guys have a hotel around here.”

“I mean I think we have a motel like a few minutes from here, but I think they run a sex ring.” Jeno looked serious.

“Yikes,” Jaemin sighed. “I might have to leave town. I mean I was literally just passing by anyway.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment. He bit his lip. It was crazy. It was crazy, right? He literally just met Jaem. He couldn’t invite him to live with him. It was insane. He gulped before saying, “Y-you should live with me. I-I mean on my couch. Pay rent. Get a job. Roommate shit.”

Jaemin raised his eyebrow. “You just met me.”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“What if you’re a serial killer.”

“What if you’re a serial killer!” Jeno pointed his finger at Jaemin.

“So we could be two serial killers together.”

“It’s actually brilliant. We kill everyone and fight to kill each other.”

“Perfect story plot because then we can fight with each other and then fall in love.” Jaemin giggled.

“So, I guess it’s agreed you’re moving in with me.” Jeno already started to clear the couch of the different trinkets covering it. Jaemin counted at least two National Geographic Magazines and seven candy wrappers.

“How many bathrooms do you have?” Jaemin asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“One and a half,” Jeno answered breezily. 

“Wicked,” Jaemin grinned ear to ear. “I have the most intricate skincare routine.”

Jeno tilted his head mid-search in between the couch cushions. “What’s a skincare routine?”

Jaemin didn’t know whether laugh or to cry. 

+

“You only packed four bags?” Jeno nearly fainted as he stared into the trunk of Jaemin’s car. “I feel like you’re actually a traveling serial killer. You told me you picked up your entire life and left from Seoul!”

Jaemin rolled his eyes and grabbed two duffle bags. “I didn’t need much.”

“I hate that.” Jeno grabbed the other significantly lighter of the two bags and Jaemin’s box of coffee. “I don’t have a Keurig.” He shut the trunk.

“Guess we’ll have to buy one,” Jaemin shrugged as he sped walk back into the building. 

“They can sense fear,” Jeno called out from behind Jaemin. “When you walk like that you’re basically admitting you’re afraid.”

“I’d rather be scared than dead in a ditch!” Jaemin held the door open for Jeno.

“We don’t have any ditches around here,” Jeno said with a smile on his face. They began their climb to Jeno’s apartment. There were only heavy pants coming from Jeno who wasn’t used to exercising so much while Jaemin cackled behind him. Jaemin was used to practicing for twelve hours a day, so he wasn’t bothered.

As Jeno opened his apartment door again, Jaemin sighed. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“You weren’t the one who had to work last night!” 

“Fair point,” Jaemin said. He dragged in two bags and kicked one Jeno was holding into the apartment. “We can nap after this, right?”

“You say that like I was the one begging to drag your shit in.” Jeno closed the door behind him and dropped everything he was holding on the floor. He collapsed onto the carpet floor next to the stain Jaemin had mentioned before.

Jaemin fell onto the couch, which was more comfortable than it looked. “So, do you have any good places to go on a date around here?”

Jeno snorted. “We can go to the trap house down the road.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that. Ugh, I can’t wait to find my trap queen.” Jaemin could already feel himself falling asleep.

“If you’re referencing Trap Queen by Fetty fucking Wap…”

“And, if I am?”

“I’ll kick you out.”

“Then I am not referencing Trap Queen.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Jeno was on the verge of falling asleep, eyes stuck together.

“I’m being serious. I want to take you on a date.”

“Okay,” Jeno whispered. “I’ll show you around later.”

Jaemin went to speak more, but he was knocked out before the words could leave his mouth.


	4. three

—two weeks later—

Something that didn’t hit Jaemin fast enough was that he had never been on a date. He was never allowed to date. He was pretty sure he signed that right away in his contract. 

He wanted to talk to Renjun, or Mark, or Hyuck as he stood in Jeno’s guest bathroom combing his hair. It’d been a week since he’d moved into Jeno’s apartment and since then he’d been doing a lot of cleaning. 

He learned early on that Jeno was a fucking hoarder. Well, that was an exaggeration, but he definitely kept a lot of useless shit. Jaemin found at least sixty National Geographic Magazines scattered throughout, four tubes of toothpaste because Jeno somehow lost them, and five toothbrushes all of which Jeno claimed as his own.

Nonetheless, Jaemin never realized how hard it was going to be to let his best friends go. When he left, he was so mad. He was so lost, so confused. He had never felt so alone. Even surrounded by thousands of people every night and hundreds of people during the day, he felt like he was the only person walking on the Earth. He ended up talking to a plushie he brought with him on tour.

“Are you almost ready?” Jeno yelled from on the couch. He was flipping through a new edition of National Geographic, not having a phone to look at. 

Jaemin walked out of the bathroom and smiled. He wore some sweatshirt he had picked up off the floor of the tour bus (he assumed it was Renjun’s because of how small it was) and skinny jeans.

“You look very cute,” Jeno complimented as he sat his magazine on the coffee table. “But, can we please go now? I’m starving.”

“Let’s go.” Jaemin grabbed his car keys with the newly attached key to Jeno’s apartment dangling. He locked the door behind them before he actually eyed Jeno’s outfit. “You’re going to fucking freeze.”

Jeno looked down at his own outfit. Jeans, baby blue, thin, long-sleeved t-shirt, and black Vans. “I’ll be fine.”

“Here,” Jaemin sighed. He took off his sweatshirt and handed it to Jeno. “You’re going to be complaining the whole time I’m going to try and eat my food.”

“What? Are we sitting outside?” Jeno slid the sweatshirt on over his head. Jaemin doesn’t answer as he walked back inside and grabbed a different sweatshirt.

“Ready?” He asked, locking the front door again.

Jeno inspected Jaemin’s sweatshirt. “Dream Suites? Like the band?”

Jaemin held his breath for a second. This was it. This was where he was going to be exposed.

“Cute. I’ve heard them on the radio in the store like once or twice,” Jeno pursed his lips, staring off at the ceiling. “They sounded good. Are you a fan?”

Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh. He wrapped his arm around Jeno’s waist and guided him to the steps. “You could say that. My brother’s a fan. Probably his.”

Jeno shrugged and smiled. “You’ll have to take me to meet your family one day.”

“I think they’d love you,” Jaemin wrapped an arm around Jeno’s waist and guided him toward the stairs. And, it was a blatant lie on Jaemin’s part. The whole thing was a lie, one he wasn’t sure how he would be able to keep up.

They walked to Jaemin’s car, which hadn’t been stolen or trashed yet to Jaemin’s surprise. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jeno said as he sat down in the passenger side seat. “I know you’re surprised your car hasn’t been stolen.”

Jaemin couldn’t disagree, so he just started the car and pulled out of the lot. He drove like he knew where he was going, and Jeno admitted that he was impressed with Jaemin’s knowledge of the town in just two weeks. 

They arrived at a park a few minutes later, next to the only secondary school in town. Jeno hummed when he saw it. “Picnic date? Where did you learn to be so romantic, Jaem?”

The name was a reminder that Jaemin might have been romantic, but he was also a liar. And, he was letting Jeno fall for someone who wasn’t real. He should’ve felt bad, he knew he should’ve felt guilty for lying to Jeno. But, he couldn’t. Not when he looked at Jeno and saw someone who was real, who cared about real people. He was genuine.

Not that Jaemin’s friends weren’t genuine, but they were drug addicts who practically had the coke forced up their nose the first time. And, they were broken like Jaemin was broken because they had been hurt the same way. The same way all idols had been.

“Guess it’s in my genes,” Jaemin said breezily as he opened the trunk of his Mercedes Benz and grabbed the picnic basket he had bought earlier in the week. He was still “looking” for a job, which he didn’t need because he had billions of dollars in his bank account, but Jeno thought he was broke.

They trekked to a spot under the tree and Jaemin laid down a few blankets he stole from Jeno’s linen closet and sat the basket down on top. Jeno plopped down and clapped his hands excitedly. Jaemin wished so bad that his heart didn’t do that thing. 

They say falling in love only takes four minutes, and if that were really true, Jaemin had fallen in two. 

“So,” Jeno said as Jaemin took out all the food he cooked for them. “You never really told me why you left.”

Jaemin paused for a moment before continuing to lay things out on the blanket. “Things at home got complicated...they were not good.”

“You said that,” Jeno sighed, fake exasperated. “I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me one.”

He should’ve shut it down, Jaemin knew. But, he just agreed.

“My mom kicked me out when I came out,” Jeno said honestly. 

Jaemin stopped and looked up. “Are you serious?”

Jeno didn’t look hurt or mad or sad. He looked the same as always, a little too happy with that perfect smile of his. “Yeah. I’m serious.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jaemin said, hand reaching out for Jeno’s, fingertips touching Jeno’s wrist. “Genuinely.”

Jeno nodded and intertwined their fingers completely. “Thank you. I was sixteen. A friend took me in so I could finish out school. Got into the local college and I got a job. I worked my ass off when I was in school to pay for my apartment.”

Jaemin knew then that he couldn’t let Jeno live like that anymore. Jaemin was generous in a way that people weren’t used to. He didn’t like to see people with less than he believed they deserved. And, Jeno deserved the entire solar system at that point. 

“Jeno…” Jaemin said, unable to look Jeno in the eyes. “I-“

Jeno cut him off, “You don’t have to say anything. It’s tragic, I know, but I don’t feel sad. I-I just told you because I know you’re curious how I ended up living where I live.”

Jaemin figured that his past was more tragic than that, but he didn’t say anything about it to Jeno because it wasn’t the time to discuss it. The funny thing was that even if Jaemin thought for a split second that their relationship would be able to work, he knew already the outcome. 

Jaemin grabbed Jeno’s hand, intertwining their fingers. It felt like he’d spent his entire life holding Jeno’s hand. He didn’t get it, maybe it was because he grew up in the spotlight and didn’t actually know love. Maybe that’s why everything that was normal to regular human beings felt like something he’d never get to experience again.

And, it would hit him later on that it was because he viewed everything as temporary. Not only did he view his career as an idol temporary, but he also viewed his time with Jeno as temporary. He even viewed his own life as temporary.

“You know,” Jaemin started, unsure how to explain what he was feeling in real words. “You’re not like anybody I’ve ever met. Like, in my world—back home—I don’t think I’ve met a sincere person like you.”

Jeno looked puzzled. “Your friends?”

Jaemin liked how Jeno didn’t assume his family was genuine because Jeno understood that family was fucked up. “My friends, yeah. But, I mean a person who is a kind-hearted as you.”

Jeno paused. “You know, Nana,” Jeno looked up, “can I call you that? Anyway, you’re so different from the people you meet in this little town. And, it’s off-putting because I’m scared you’re not real. I’m scared you’re an angel sent from heaven and you’re going to realize that this place—that I’m not what you really want.”

Jaemin didn’t know how to tell Jeno he understood to the point where it hit him like a bullet to the chest. It knocked the breath out of him how real it was. So, instead, he leaned forward and he kissed Jeno tenderly, lips barely brushing the other’s, and fingers playing along the nape of Jeno’s neck. When they pulled away from each other, Jeno was grinning ear to ear. Jaemin smiled softly, cheeks flushed with a deep red. 

“Stay forever,” Jeno whispered for the same reason that people don’t say their birthday wishes aloud. 

“Okay,” Jaemin agreed, equally as quiet. 

+

—three months later—

“This is cute,” Jeno said, pointing at the patchworked couch from the catalog he had in his lap. Jaemin took a sip of his coffee before he pushed his hair away from his catalogs and looked at what Jeno was looking at.

He pursed his lips and Jeno sighed before flipping the page of the magazine. Jaemin went back to looking at his own home improvement magazine that he picked up from the grocery store. He was lucky that Jeno didn’t pay attention to the tabloid magazines because Jaemin knew his face was still splattered all over the covers. He thought his disappearance would’ve quieted down after a few months, but he was wrong because apparently, his band went on hiatus without him. 

“I don’t know how you plan on filling the house you bought with any furniture if you hate all of it.” Jeno dropped his magazine on the stack of rejected magazines and picked the next one up off the pile of magazines they haven’t looked at yet.

Jaemin rubbed his head, feeling the headache coming on from not having a hit in a day. Jaemin excused himself and went into his new bathroom, void of life, and pulled the white powder packet out of his pocket. He opened it and poured a small line out on the marble counter. Quickly, he cut it into two lines with his credit card and snorted it.

He flushed the toilet and wiped his nose, checking his pupils and smiling. He already felt much better as he walked out of the bathroom back into his empty living room.

“This one?” Jeno held up the magazine, eyes looking at a blue love chair. 

Jaemin didn’t have a preference and shrugged.

“Am I going to end up decorating your entire house?” Jeno asked, sitting on a chair he brought Jaemin from his own apartment as a housewarming gift. “You literally have like eight bajillion rooms to fill and all you have right now is this couch.”

Jaemin smiled and shrugged. “You have better taste than I do.”

Jeno sighed. “I already did my furniture shopping when I bought my apartment a few years ago, I don’t want to do it all over again for you. The first time was stressful enough.”

Jaemin thumbed through a magazine full of plants and smiled. He glanced around the living room from the carpeted floor up to the white-crowned molding on the ceiling. The house was on the complete opposite side of town, in the place filled with football moms and children all over. He bought the house in the middle of the neighborhood with a pool in the backyard and four bedrooms and three bathrooms.

He loved it, had loved it since he first laid eyes on it. Ever since he was young, Jaemin dreamed of living in a house like it. And, he bought it on sight.

“Maybe you can do it for you for a second time,” Jaemin suggested nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You asking me to move into your house?” Jeno raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.”

Jeno smiled softly. “No, thank you, babe. But, I’ll help you furniture shop until then, okay.”

Jaemin frowned. “‘No’?”

There was a silence in the air. “I mean, I know that you moved in with me the first day we met, but, like, isn’t it a little soon?”

Maybe Jaemin was selfish, or a fool--or a combination of both--but he hadn’t lived alone in his entire life and he didn’t want to start then.

“Don’t make me live here alone,” Jaemin said meekly, eyes filled with those tears that always got the fans. Jaemin was a good liar, always had been.

Jeno noticed the change in Jaemin’s voice and looked up from his magazine, unsure what to do. Jeno was good at dealing with emotional customers, not someone he was potentially in love with. “Babe, c’mon.”

Jaemin dropped his magazine on the floor. “I don’t wanna live alone. Plus, like, I drive you to work every day and Uni and it’s just easier if we live together. I’m not saying we get married or have kids, but everything gets fucked if we live apart.”

Jeno bit his lip. “I mean, you have a point.” He sighed. “Okay, but, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of my lease.”

The younger didn’t hear Jeno’s last sentence because he was already bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with excitement. Maybe it was the coke, but maybe Jaemin was really, truly in love with Lee Jeno. He wouldn’t know until months later when he was forced to make a choice.


	5. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're still reading thank you so much!! i know that my updates are slow and painful, but i've been struggling especially inspiration wise. please leave a comment on what you think so far, it'd mean the world to me. i love reading your comments!! they make me feel so special<333 with love, liv.
> 
> twt: bluesidejeno (aus/writings) and flirtmarks (more personal)

—two weeks later—

Jeno was beautiful, Jaemin drunkenly realized in the middle of a packed club as the blue and red lights fell around Jeno as he danced around the floor. Everyone was staring at him, he could feel the eyes on him, but when he opened his eyes all he could focus on was Jaemin who was standing on a wall, sipping on vodka as the music blasted around him.

Jaemin was content with standing on the wall, per usual, but Jeno didn’t like dancing alone. He was bouncing toward Jaemin when some guy grabbed his hips and started to dance with him, pushing him toward the crowd. 

And, something just came over Jaemin. He wasn’t usually a jealous person, but as he saw the scene go on, something in him snapped. He dropped his cup on the floor, not even hearing the glass shatter, and stomped over to where the guy was still grinding on Jeno.

“Fuck off” was the only thing that he said before he grabbed the guy by the shoulder and threw a punch at his jaw. He vaguely heard Jeno yelling at him to stop, but the guy took a swing at him and Jaemin lost it.

Jaemin ran at the guy and took him to the floor, throwing punches at him as the guy fought him any way he could. There was a lot of commotion around him, but Jaemin could barely hear any of it. 

Then, there were hands on him and before he knew it, he was being thrown out into the cold. He rubbed his cheek, where the guy had scratched him, and felt the blood. A few seconds later, Jeno came running out of the club, hysterical and screaming at the bouncers.

Jaemin laughed and shook his head because if anything was Lee Jeno, it was yelling at the bouncers who were ten times his size.

“Oh, baby,” Jaemin chuckled, probably a little too drunk and definitely a little too high from earlier. 

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, words slurred as he stumbled toward Jaemin. 

“I’m perfect,” Jaemin laughed like anything was funny at all. “I’m amazing, babe. Let’s go home.”

He called them a cab, forgetting for a moment that he was, at some point...maybe even still was, an idol with millions of people searching for him. As they climbed into the cab, he knew the driver thought something was up. Jeno was oblivious as always, but Jaemin could tell by the way the driver looked over his shoulder when they were stopped and looked at his phone when he thought he had a split second to spare.

Jaemin told him to stop the cab three blocks from his house and thanked him, handing him cash before dragging Jeno out of the car. Maybe he was paranoid, maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol, but he knew something was up.

He always knew. That was his role in the band, after all. Jaemin was observant, could spot a fan a mile away. Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to Jeno in the first place...because Jeno didn’t reek of desperation and he lacked those pitiful eyes that begged for the happiness that was only fulfilled by Jaemin. When Jaemin told Renjun about his observations, Renjun simply said that he didn’t care enough to notice.

“I’m tired of walking,” Jeno said suddenly, already dragging ass as he held Jaemin’s hand back to the house. 

Jaemin shushed him and continued on in silence, careful to guide Jeno through the midnight darkness. They stumbled into Jaemin’s oversized house, flicking the lights on and maneuvering through the boxes from Jeno’s apartment still covering the rooms.

Jeno whined the whole way to their bedroom, tired of walking. As Jeno undressed and fell into bed, Jaemin walked to the bathroom off the room and shuts the door. He turned on the shower and listened through the door for Jeno’s soft snoring. 

As his heart rate finally started to come down, Jaemin realized that even in the smallest town, he would still be known. There would always be someone who recognized his face that had been plastered all over the internet for his entire life. Maybe he was paranoid. But, he didn’t think he was. Because in the end, people like him knew people that wanted to sell him out. Broken people knew corrupt people, maybe because broken people were corrupt people with eyes that were a little duller and a heart that was cracked in a few more places. Broken people also had a lot more to lose.

+

“Look at that cat,” Jeno squealed in delight as they walked around the shelter. Jaemin couldn’t help but smile at Jeno.

“‘S cute.” Jaemin looked at the animals in the shelter, not that amused. He wasn’t really an animal person, he didn’t mind animals, but he’d never had the pleasure (or misfortune) of owning a pet. When Jeno heard that, he nearly cried for Jaemin (he did a lot of crying).

Jeno browsed around the cat crates for a few minutes until he started to tear up. “Babe, babe, babe, c’mere,” Jeno waved his hand.

Jaemin walked over to Jeno and squatted down next to him. There was a black and white cat, meowing and staring up at Jeno with wide eyes. Jeno looked at Jaemin with the same expression. 

“Babe,” Jaemin started, hesitant to adopt a fucking cat.

“Please,” Jeno had this look on his face like he might cry if they didn’t adopt the cat. Jaemin didn’t doubt that Jeno would start to cry. He learned earlier on that Jeno was emotional, not because he was a crybaby or anything, but he was just emotional. “Please, please, please. She’s so cute, please.”

If Jaemin was anything, he was whipped. 

He sighed before pretending to think, biting his lip and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t need much convincing, but it was more fun to make Jeno wait. “I guess. But, I don’t know if we’re necessarily cat ready.”

Jeno dismissed what Jaemin said and decided to talk to the people who would approve the adoption. A couple of hours later, after a lot of pleading (and bribing on Jaemin’s part), they walked out of the shelter with a new one-year-old cat. 

As they walked to the car, or rather, Jaemin walked to the car carrying the cat cage and Jeno skipped, Jeno thought of names for the cat. 

“Open the back door, babe,” Jaemin sighed. Jeno opened the door of Jaemin’s car and smiled as Jaemin sat the crate inside.

“Okay, so we have to drive a little bit closer to the city because we don’t have a pet store,” Jeno pursed his lips as he thought. “I kind of want to move to the city.”

Jaemin felt his heart skip a beat. He started the car, fingers trembling a bit. “Why?” He tried to sound as normal as possible and he figured that Jeno didn’t notice a thing because he was not only naive, but he was oblivious. 

“Just because this place is so small,” Jeno pouted, looking out the window as Jaemin asked Siri for directions to the nearest pet store. There happened to be one in the town over, a lot closer than Seoul.

“Has character,” Jaemin said. “I think it’s cute.”

“Y-yeah,” Jeno faltered, he tried to form the right words. “I mean, it’s just that I’ve lived in this town my entire life and it’s just, like, I just wanna see more.”

Jaemin didn’t know what to say, so he just hummed in agreement. “It’s fun for a while, but it’s the same old same old, y’know. You’re the same person in a different place.”

“Is that true for you?” Jeno asked absentmindedly. Unlike a lot of the people Jaemin’s met in his life, Jeno didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. Most people were cruel-minded, everything they asked or said had a rhyme or reason, some sort of wicked intent behind it. But, Jeno asked questions because he wanted people to feel cared for, he wanted people to know that he was interested in what they had to say. And, surprisingly enough, he actually cared too.

“Kinda,” Jaemin answered. “I think.”

Jeno nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m cut out for big cities.”

“‘S not for everyone,” Jaemin reached for Jeno’s hand, which the latter held out for him. Jaemin intertwined their fingers, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

Jeno shrugged his shoulders. “I’m good here. You, me, and Licorice.”

“Uh uh,” Jaemin shook his head. “We are not naming our cat Licorice.”

“It’s cute though.”

“No,” Jaemin used his serious voice and Jeno sighed.

“Catwoman? Isn’t that at least a little bit cute?”

“No?” Jaemin was exasperated and exited the highway. “No.”

“Shakira?” 

Jaemin didn't know if Jeno was being serious so he giggled as he turned onto the street welcoming them into the new town. 

“‘S not funny,” Jeno pouted, squeezing Jaemin’s hand. “Shakira is a very well-respected singer, dancer, and actress. Remember when she was in Wizards of Waverly Place that one time? Talent.”

Jaemin laughed even harder, knowing that Jeno was seriously suggesting the name Shakira. Once he sobered up, he decided the name fit their new cat. “Okay, Shakira it is.”

“Wait, for real?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin smiled harder than he ever had in his entire life. He pulled into the parking lot of the pet store and parked. He twisted in his seat to face Jeno.

Jeno looked up shyly, barely able to make eye contact with Jaemin without getting flustered. “Shakira it is, I guess.”

There were three things that Jaemin knew were facts, without a doubt. First, he knew that he didn’t regret disappearing. Second, he knew he missed his friends. Third, he was impossibly, hopelessly, stupidly, dangerously in love with Lee Jeno. 

And, he knew if someone heard about his relationship with Jeno, from face value, it’d look suspicious. Jaemin popped out of nowhere, with no real explanation as to how or why he was there. Jeno invited him home and he stayed. 

Anyone could say that what he felt for Jeno wasn’t real love, he was in love with the idea of Jeno, of staying incognito, of the lifestyle that Jeno lived. 

But, Jaemin could—would—promise a person that he was undeniably in love with Jeno. In love with Jeno’s smile, his disheveled hair in the morning, the cat sheets they slept on, the National Geographic magazines he read in the morning while drinking orange juice, the billions of small trinkets he kept around the house. Jaemin craved Jeno’s lips, the scent of his shampoo, the feel of his skin on his, the sound of his voice when he was tired and grumpy. Jaemin was lost without Jeno’s guidance in Uni and his ability to bargain shop in the grocery store. 

Jaemin admired Jeno more than he admired Mark Lee, the person he owed his entire career to. He admired his kind heart, his little giggle, the way his nose scrunched and eyes disappeared when he laughed. He envied Jeno’s ability with people, how he didn’t have to fight that instinct to not hurt people, how his heart opened up to every person and animal he met, how Jeno had no walls because he was so trusting of everyone.

As Jaemin looked into Jeno’s eyes, he was at a loss for words. He’d been taught to speak from his heart, or whatever was left of it, when speaking to the fans. But no amount of teaching could’ve prepared him to confess his love for Jeno. Maybe because they were never taught what real love was. Instead, they were taught how to say I Love You to people who they didn’t know, a handful they might have a thirty-second conversation with, most who would end up forgetting about them.

But, Jeno beat him to it. “I love you, Jaem. I love you so, so much it hurts. I-I’m not good with words, but I want you to know I’m scared. I’m scared that maybe you’re going to listen to me say this and decide that you don’t love me. Or, you will say it back and then two months later you’ll tell me you never meant it. But, I want you to know I really, truly love you.” Jeno let out a breath that he’d been holding in.

Jaemin smiled, eyes teary. He wiped his eye and snuffled. “I love you, too. I-I love you too.” He didn’t know why he wasn’t able to appease Jeno’s worries when he worried the same thing. If he were to look back at it, he’d know it was because he couldn’t make promises like that. Jaemin was a liar, he was a heartbreaker, but he couldn’t flat out tell Jeno that one day the older wouldn’t wake up and he would be gone without a trace. 

Jeno was frozen with surprise, but Jaemin grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled the older toward him. They were five, maybe six, inches apart, just staring into each other’s eyes before Jeno leaned forward and kissed him softly. Jaemin thought maybe he was finally comprehending real love. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have chapter five written. lemme know if you think i should publish it now or next week! no comment is too long or short! thank you again


	6. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is bit darker, but is very, very important! the rest of this story gets pretty heavy, so i'll be sure to add trigger warnings. hopefully you guys don't have to wait another month for updates. love u!!! <333

—one week later—

Jaemin cracked when he saw his face on the cover of the magazine with the headline that people had spotted him at a pet store outside of Seoul. He gave in and bought an iPhone that day, quickly running home before Jeno got out of Uni and downloading Twitter.

He knew that if there were real rumors of his reappearance, Twitter would be buzzing with information. As he made his fake account, he began to feel his heartbeat speed up. 

The second he logged on, he went to the search tab and noticed that the number one trend was #JaeminReappeared. He groaned, feeling the tears in his eyes. As he read different articles, he realized the general consensus was that he was shopping with a ballcap on and had a different hair color (black instead of the ugly bright pink they had forced him to dye his hair before he left). He let out a breath of relief when the articles said they didn’t see him with anyone.

He was unsure where to go from that point. The risk was higher, stakes even higher than that. He couldn’t risk getting seen again, he already knew that people would be on an even higher alert for him. It was a miracle that no one had recognized him so far. Jaemin wasn’t all that worried about being caught, he was more worried about the consequences. Jeno. Jeno. Jeno.

Jaemin cursed to himself and threw himself back on his and Jeno’s perfectly made bed. He smiled to himself just thinking about Lee Jeno. 

Something Jaemin would’ve never imagined six months ago was him getting down on his knees and asking God to save him. Jaemin was a sinner and the truth was that his soul probably wouldn’t be saved, but he still asked God to have mercy on him. Because if the truth was that God was forgiving, then he would have to forgive Jaemin even after all the drugs and alcohol he’d consumed.

“Babe?” Jeno walked into the room, a few magazines in hand. Jaemin tossed his phone under the bed and stood up. 

“I thought you weren’t going to be home until later?” Jaemin asked after he greeted Jeno with a kiss on the lips.

Jeno shrugged. “People were acting really weird. Town’s buzzing. I guess some idol or something has been found? I don’t really know. I try to avoid gossip like that.”

“That’s what I like about you, baby,” Jaemin guided Jeno through their home into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

Jeno tossed his magazines on the marble counter and nodded. “We can go out and get something. I feel bad that you do all the cooking.”

Jaemin smiled slightly, admiring Jeno’s soft smile as he flipped through National Geographic. “No, it’s okay. I like cooking, especially for you.”

“I love you,” Jeno mumbled mindlessly the same way that he had been since their trip to the pet store. He said it like it meant nothing and everything all at the same time. But, that was Jeno. Jaemin valued real love, if it even existed, and Jeno valued love but he valued love that came from everyone. The people he rung up at the store, the adoption ladies at the shelter, the people at the gas station. 

As Jaemin rummaged through their kitchen, Jeno spoke up, rubbing his temples. “I was thinking about buying a cellphone because it worries me that I can’t ask if you’re okay.” Jaemin stopped moving, frozen in place. Jeno kept speaking, “Probably nothing fancy. Like, not an iPhone. Just want something to keep in contact with you.”

Jaemin stopped moving, frozen in fear. It was irrational fear. Just because Jaemin associated cellphones with being exposed didn’t mean he would be. Or, that Jeno would find out that Jaemin has crafted this elaborate lie for months. But, how could he have risked it?

“Oh.”

Jeno shrugged his shoulders, not even realizing the change in Jaemin’s demeanor. Jaemin stood in the kitchen, holding vegetables when it truly hit him.

He could not live in that town anymore. Everything was going to crash down around him, fall apart right before his eyes. He would lose Jeno first and then he would have to face the rest of the world. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

+

He was lying in bed, Jeno asleep next to him, when he had to keep from crying. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to abandon Lee Jeno. But, the God honest truth was that if he didn’t leave, they would both be hurt. Jaemin didn’t just have vicious fans, he had a vicious company.

He couldn’t leave his contract, so he disappeared from everything instead. He was owned by his company. Every breath he breathed in Seoul was because of his company. Every step he took in his expensive Italian leather shoes happened because of his company. Every cent in his bank account existed because of his company. Maybe he had talent, maybe he was as special as the fans believed, but he was truly nothing without his company.

They liked to remind him on the bad days, even more so on the worse days. Jaemin was only human, much like the rest of his members, and he fell apart. His managers reminded him that he didn’t have time to fall apart because he was _Na Jaemin_ , an idol. But, with Jeno, he was _Na Jaem_ , who was allowed to break down into tears and have nightmares as a result of trauma. 

It made the mere thought leaving so much harder than the first time. He was weak in general, but he was weaker for Jeno, and even weaker without him. The idea of strength to Jaemin used to be Mark, who suffered everything and managed to wake up, snort something, and keep going. Jaemin thought that Mark had it the worst because he was the leader, and leaders always got criticized first.

But, Jaemin learned in six short, too short, months that strength wasn’t taking drugs to fake your way through the day. Strength was Lee Jeno, who woke up every day with a smile on his face, continuously thankful for what life had handed him, even if the cards he was dealt were shitty. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the tears on his cheek. He wiped them from his face gingerly, not wanting to wake Jeno up as he snored lightly. Oh, gorgeous Lee Jeno. If all the pain in the world meant he got to live the past six months again and again, he wouldn’t hesitate to endure all of the suffering.

But, he wasn’t the same person he was six months ago. He knew this because he felt the difference. He put others before himself, he wasn’t self-concerned and motivated. When he went to the store, he thought about Jeno’s wants first and then his own. 

So, he knew the answer to the true conflict. He knew the only way to end the war. He knew.

+

“I love you,” Jaemin murmured as they were sat in the living room, reading as they usually did when Jeno got home from Uni and Jaemin got done with whatever he did that Jeno never questioned him about.

Jeno looked up from his book and smiled, eyes turning into crescents as always. “I love you, too.”

Jaemin waited a moment to say anything else, to let the words sink in. But, he realized there wasn’t much more to say. That moment was more than perfect. It embodied everything he ever truly desired. A perfect boyfriend in a perfect home, doing something as mundane as reading. Most people thought celebrities and idols lived a life full of money because idols were prone to wearing expensive clothing, having expensive taste, but half the time idols were shuffled into clothing by stylists and then rushing out into public, barely knowing what they look like.

There was never enough time. There was never enough rest. Jaemin supposed that they didn’t rest because their bodies didn’t know how. His body had reacted violently to all the food he ate when he first came to Jeno (or maybe that was part of the withdrawal process) that he carefully and cleverly played off as food poisoning. His body didn’t know rest, it knew hurting. It knew pain and endless aching.

Jeno was so _regular_ , which a lot of people would take offense to, but Jaemin loved. Jeno was so easy to be around, to love with his entire heart. Jeno deserved the world, the universe with every constellation and planet and milky way that existed.

The realization that he couldn’t stay, that he had to leave Jeno behind, hit him when Jeno got up to get a glass of water and brought back a cup of coffee for Jaemin without being asked. 

Jeno was pure good, sweet and wholesome. He had a soul that Jaemin would kill for. Generosity ran through his veins, pumped through his heart, breathed out with every up and down of his lungs.

And, if he were to ever be found to be the boy Jaemin loved, he would be torn apart. He would change because you can’t be only good to be in the world of celebrities.

Fame was unforgiving, but Jaemin thought that being the lover of an idol was even more grim. 

Fans told him that they loved him, but at a price, to an extent that Jaemin could never comprehend. They loved him, but he had to be funny. They loved him, but he had to be pretty. They loved him, but he had to be single. They loved him, but he had to wear the persona that his company gave him.

Jeno would be the target of death threats, of words that acted like knives and pierced his heart before ripping open parts of him that would never recover. Broken bones heal, but tears in the soul never do. Jaemin knew that.

So, he knew that staying wasn’t a viable option. It never was. Running away was a temporary solution to the eternal problem which is fame. He would always be famous, always be that kid from the Kpop group, be a member of Dream Suites before Na Jaemin. 

He didn’t know what he would do after he left, but he knew that there was only one answer. God, it hurt for him to think about. Tears welled up in his eyes and he held his book up against his face so Jeno wouldn’t see.

Being without Jeno would be the worst thing Jaemin’s ever faced. But, he knew that staying around just to watch Jeno fall apart and turn into the skeleton of the person Jaemin fell in love with as fans broke him down would kill him. Jaemin was selfish. Maybe, he decided leaving would be best for Jeno. Or, maybe Jaemin didn’t want to watch another person disintegrate at the hands of his fans. He’d already watched his band do so. He couldn’t watch it happen to Jeno too. He’d rather die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! leave a comment & maybe even predict what might happen! i love asking questions and hearing your thoughts. maybe answer a couple of these in the comments:)
> 
> 1\. in your opinion, do you believe jaemin is a good person? do you believe jaemin deserves jeno?
> 
> 2\. do you think that jeno is truly the "pure" person jaemin makes him out to be? or do you think that jaemin puts jeno on a pedestal? if so, why does jaemin do this?
> 
> 3\. jaemin often thinks about his life as an idol. he mentions that he's a bad person and so is his band because fame deteriorated them to who they are. what is it about fame that turns people bad? does fame really turn people bad or does it just bring out the ugly side of people that they've hidden away?


	7. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter puts me over 100,000 words here on ao3 since july of 2018. i can't believe how many words i've written. that doesn't include any of my wips and my narrations from my many, many aus on twitter. i'm amazed. thank you.
> 
> enjoy. bring your tissues. i cried.
> 
> i listened to dancing with a stranger by sam smith and normani while writing this.

—two days later—

He was so drunk that everything was blurry and this god awful dizzy. He simultaneously hated and loved it when the word looked like it had been tipped on its axis. It was so, so bad for him. He hadn’t been drunk like it in months.

He didn’t remember how he got the alcohol, where he found it. He thought maybe it’d been part of the stash of drugs he brought with him. All he did know was that he had an aching headache and this sudden urge to drive his car over a bridge.

How he had gotten to this point was relatively simple. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find him, just some very dedicated fans. He had shown up to his lame job, working for some elderly couple to help restock their bookstore when news had broken of his whereabouts.

He was walking in through the back when he saw the crowd of girls. It had to be hundreds, maybe thousands of fans crowded around the front of the bookstore. His bosses were overwhelmed, shocked by the crowd that they didn’t notice him slip in and then slip out.

God. Everything fucking sucked. And, God, he sounded so privileged. He had thousands of fans. He had millions, maybe billions of dollars. He lived a life that so many people wanted. That so many trainees worked their entire life for. And, he didn’t want anything to do with it. He didn’t want another second of it. 

Maybe nobody understood why. Maybe nobody would ever understand that pain was pain, no matter how it looked. He wasn’t starving to death in Africa or being bombed in Syria. But, he was in pain. Pain that was killing him, hurting him so bad that he’d rather die than live another second with it. Pain like that, it lived in you. It clung to you like a best friend. It followed you like a shadow. It haunted you like a dead friend. 

“Jaem?” Jeno’s honey-like voice practically sang through the room. “Jaem? Are you here? What’s going on? Why is there glass everywhere?”

Jeno gasped when he saw Jaemin standing in the middle of chaos, the house scattered around him. Jaemin was completely still in the living room, room torn apart. The couch cushions were halfway across the room, lamps, and lightbulbs on the floor, contents of the coffee table like the flowers and the magazines and the coffee cups were strewn throughout. There was glass everywhere, some on Jaemin’s boots, most of it fallen around him like he had emerged from a broken mirror.

Jaemin just stood there, clutching a picture frame and staring at Jeno with something Jeno had never seen before. He looked at Jeno like he was a stranger almost. Like he was a whole other person. 

Jeno ran to Jaemin, grabbing his bleeding hand and touching his cheek for any cuts. The only thing he found was the small cut on Jaemin’s hand. “What happened? Are you okay? Have you been crying? Jaem?”

And, Jaemin just couldn’t listen to Jeno call him that anymore. Jaem was so close to Jaemin. So close to the truth, yet so far from it at the same time. Like, Jeno knew almost everything. He knew the person Jaemin wanted so badly to be. But, it was finally time Jeno learned who Jaemin really was. 

Jaemin smiled his pretty little smile, the one that he put on for the fans. The smile he had practiced so much that it felt like riding a bike. It was second nature to him. “It’s over. I’m not who you think I am,” Jaemin chuckles, laugh deep. “I’m Na Jaemin. A celebrity.”

Jeno cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed together like he always did when he got confused. “What? Jaem, you’re being crazy. Have you been drinking?”

“Google it, Jeno. Google the name Na Jaemin.” Jaemin took his phone from his back pocket, not giving a fuck about his bleeding hand, not really even being able to feel it. He tossed it to Jeno, even though there had been very little space in between them. “Look. It. Up.”

Jeno shook his head, staring at the iPhone in his hand. “What?”

“Google my name,” Jaemin grit out, annoyed that Jeno was taking so long. For once, Jaemin didn’t want Jeno to believe the best in people. He wanted it over. He wanted the shock and then the disappointment. He wanted to feel Jeno’s pain. He desired it, needed to taste it. It had been so long.

With shaky hands, Jeno opened Jaemin’s phone. He gulped as he pressed the Safari icon. He typed in ‘Jaem’ and Na Jaemin was the first option. Hesitantly, he clicked it.

Jaemin watched Jeno’s eyes read. He relished in the way Jeno’s eyes widened, how Jeno took a step back as the breath was knocked out of him. He loved the way Jeno’s face went from shock to tears filling those beautiful eyes of his. There was something satisfying about it. Jaemin was a masochist and sadist all in one. He loved the way he could hurt the people he cared about. And, he loved the way hurting them hurt him. At least, he loved with when he was so drunk that the pain was more numbing than hurtful.

“Jaemin…” Jeno tried the name out, letting it roll off his tongue. “Na Jaemin.”

His name was as sweet as sugar coming out of Jeno’s mouth. Jaemin let it sink between them.

There was something so fucking freeing about the truth. Liberating. 

But, the truth was never without consequences. He knew that. So, he waited for the backlash. 

And, Jeno didn’t disappoint.

“Are you fucking kidding me? _Na Jaemin?_ Golden boy of _Dream Suites_? Are you kidding me? I mean, this is some kind of joke, right? Like, where the fuck are the cameras because there’s no goddamn way you’ve been lying to me for the past what? Six? Seven months? Right?”

Jeno looked at Jaemin expectantly, waiting for Jaemin to start laughing. It never happened. 

“Jaemin, please,” Jeno whispered, desperate to be told what he wanted to hear. “Please.”

Jaemin just couldn’t give Jeno what he wanted. He couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t Na Jaemin of Dream Suites. He couldn’t tell Jeno that he hadn’t been lying to him for months Jaemin remained silent. It was just so much easier than trying to explain anything.

“I...I did what I had to do,” Jaemin muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“What does that even mean?” Jeno was in tears by now, not afraid to let them fall down his cheeks. “Jaemin? Tell me what it means. Tell me why. Tell me the truth, I’m fucking begging you. I’m fucking begging, God.” 

Jaemin’s never heard anyone so desperate sounding as Jeno at that moment. He looked how he sounded. Eyes pleading, lips trembling, hands shaking. He looked ready to get on his knees and pray to God to make it not true.

But, there was just silence. There was just space between them. All these lies. All these stories. All these feelings that Jaemin just couldn’t describe. There was so much, but not enough.

“Do you even love me? Is that a lie too? Was it even real?” Jeno closed his eyes and shook his head, swallowing hard as tears slid down his red face. He rubbed his head with the palm of his hand, shaking his head like he couldn’t even comprehend the situation. He kept taking these deep breaths, just trying to understand. Two hands came up and ran through his hair, pulling at it like it would bring him back to earth.

Jaemin didn’t answer. 

Jeno let out this God awful _sob_ , voice choked up. “God, I was just a fantasy or something right? Some charity case? You found me and decided you wanted to fix my life? You came here and made me _love_ you just so you could, what? Leave me? I don’t understand, Jaemin. I just don’t understand. Make it make sense. Please, God. Make it make sense.”

Jaemin couldn’t.

“Tell me you really love me, please. Tell me you meant it all. Don’t leave me here, please,” Jeno was begging at this point, pleading so hard that Jaemin could feel how weak and desperate Jeno was. 

And, Jaemin knew Jeno. Maybe Jeno really only knew part of Jaemin, the part he wanted him to see. But, Jaemin knew everything about Jeno. And, that just made it so much worse.

Jaemin couldn’t stand to watch Jeno cry any longer, so he looked away.

Jeno walked up to Jaemin, grabbed him by the chin and forced the younger to look at him. “Jaemin, please tell me it was real. Please. God, please tell me you really love me. Tell me it wasn’t some cruel joke. Please, I know you. I...I know you’re not capable of lying to me for so long.”

“But, I am,” Jaemin answered, tears falling once again, voice weak. “Jeno, I lied to you this whole time. The whole time, I was lying. I’m not Na Jaem. I’m not him.”

Jeno rubbed his temples, trying so hard for it to make sense. But, it never did. It just hurt. It was just so jumbled in his mind, he could hardly breathe. He didn’t know what else he could say. How else could he get it across? “God, Jaemin. I love you. I don’t care who you say you are, you’re the boy who I met in the convenience store. You’re the boy who gave me fifty dollars and watch Disney movies with me. You’re the boy who sang Fetty Wap to me. You’re the boy who adopted a cat with me. You can’t tell me that was all fake. Y-you can’t tell me you didn’t mean any of it.”

Jaemin didn’t know who he really was. He wanted to so badly, he wanted to be able to tell Jeno that he was the person Jeno envisioned in his beautiful mind. But, wanting to do something and being able to do it are so different.

“Jaemin,” Jeno sobbed, clutching the younger’s t-shirt in his fists. “Please. _Please._ ” And, it was so broken Jaemin couldn’t bear to be there any longer.

“Let go,” Jaemin demanded even though it hurt. It hurt worse than any other pain he’d ever felt. “Let go of me, Jeno.”

“No,” Jeno shook his head, gripping Jaemin’s shirt even tight. “I won’t let you go, Jaemin. I won’t let you leave me here after everything. I know I should be so mad at you, and I am. God, I’m fucking pissed at you. But, you can’t just leave me like I never existed. Like, I never mattered to you. Please, don’t hurt me anymore.”

Jaemin didn’t want to hurt Jeno anymore. He didn’t want to crush his fragile heart. But, leaving Jeno then would save him so much pain in the future. Jeno thought he knew pain, thought this was as bad as it could get. But, Jeno only knew the weak, watered-down version of pain. He didn’t know having every flaw being pointed out, death threats, fans following every move, cameras on you every second of every day. He didn’t know that pain. And, Jaemin wouldn’t let him.

“I can’t stay here anymore, Jeno. I’m not Na Jaem. I’m not anything like him. I wish I was. But, I’m not. And, you won’t love Na Jaemin the way you love Na Jaem. So, just let me go. Just let me go, Jeno. I won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.” Jaemin knew making a promise like that entailed much more than leaving. It meant staying away for good. It meant making it like he had never made a home in Jeno’s heart.

“Jaemin, please,” Jeno let out one final plea, face red, eyes swollen. Jaemin touched Jeno’s hand, fingers touching the soft skin for just a second. He carefully removed Jeno’s hand from his shirt, sniffling from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin apologized sincerely, caressing Jeno’s cheek, thumb rubbing the skin of Jeno’s cheekbone. “I’m so sorry, Jeno.”

He backed away from Jeno before grabbing the backpack he had packed earlier. In hand, he had the picture frame which contained the prettiest picture of Jeno with Shakira, holding her and grinning like an idiot. Jaemin looked at it.

Jeno was frozen in place. He couldn’t even turn around to watch Jaemin walk out the door.

Jaemin looked back at Jeno one last time, savoring the beauty of the older before opening the front door and heading toward his car. He dialed a number he had memorized and hadn’t used in months.

It rang once. “Jaemin? Jaemin, is that you?”

“Renjun. It’s me. I’m coming home.”

“Thank God you’re alive. Oh my God, you’re alive,” Renjun’s voice was so relieved. 

“I’m driving to Seoul,” Jaemin answered. “I’ll be there in three, four hours? I’ll see you soon.”

“Jaemin-”

“I love you, Injun. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up and pulled out of the garage, speeding onto the nearest highway that would lead him straight into the city he had abandoned months and months ago. Instead of leaving behind a life unfit for him this time, however, he was leaving behind a person that didn’t deserve it one bit. He was leaving Lee Jeno. The best thing to ever happen to him. The first time he left, he was selfish. And, this time he didn’t know if it was different or not. He thought it was.

Back in their house, stood Lee Jeno. He didn’t know where to start. He walked to the kitchen, the room just as disastrous as the living room. On the island, the only place clean of a mess, was a letter.

He slid to the floor, clearing it of glass, back against the cabinet in the kitchen. He hastily opened it, throwing the envelope with his name on the front across the kitchen.

_Lee Jeno._

_The house is yours. It’s paid off completely. There’s enough money in the bedside dresser to pay the bills for years and years and years. There’s enough for you to graduate Uni, Hell, even grad school, and quit your job. I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry, there aren’t any words for it. It was all real. I was real. You showed me the real me who'd been hiding underneath layers and layers of fake. I love you so much. Maybe one day you’ll forgive me. When you’re ready, open the second letter with the money. You’ll understand._

_Love, Jaemin_

He threw his head against the cabinet, trying to fathom everything that had just happened. Shakira walked over to him, stepping around the glass and meowing. Jeno grabbed her and held her in his lap. She had always hated being cuddled, but suddenly she didn’t mind at all. She didn’t mind the way Jeno buried his face in her fur. She didn’t mind the way he got her fur soaking wet with his tears. She sat there with him for the rest of the night. Jeno wanted it so badly to be Jaemin with him. But, Shakira was second best. She was all he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment. tell me how you feel. tell me what you think will happen. anything. nothing is too long or short.
> 
> i just have one question today.
> 
> as jaemin falls back into the spotlight, how do you foresee him coping with the loss of jeno and the pressure of going back to being an idol?
> 
> twitter: flirtmarkno
> 
> until the next chapter.
> 
> love,
> 
> \- liv


	8. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaemin is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome back! i just want to say this chapter, as well as the rest of the chapters are much darker. it's just something you might want to brace yourself for.
> 
> song i got inspired by is heaven (all around you) by apollo ltd
> 
> oh, and something i just wanted to mention is that this fic is titled after ozone by chase atlantic...i think you should listen to it and read the lyrics because they're really important ;)
> 
> final thing, this chapter had to be split into 2 chapters because it got so long. hopefully this fic doesn't get _too_ long. i'm shooting for 22k-ish words, maybe 20k. hopefully this doesn't drag on too much. this chapter is sort of a filler, but it's also really important because you see a lot of group dynamics/changes...
> 
> okay, enough rambling. enjoy.

Four hours later, Jaemin was in the last stretch of his drive to Seoul. He hadn’t been in the city in half a year, but it didn’t look much different from when he had left. It was dim, lights illuminating the city. One a.m. looked good on Seoul.

He pulled into the parking lot of the dorms, the breath knocked out of him. He hated how nauseous it made him feel. Maybe that was part of the hangover part of drinking. He realized halfway through his drive that he was certainly not sober enough to drive, even though his conversation with Jeno had aged him about ten years.

He stepped out of his car, bag hanging off his shoulder and he walked the way to the front door. He didn’t knock because Mark opened the door and tackled Jaemin to the floor.

“Jaemin, oh my fucking God!” Mark hugged him so tight, he couldn’t breathe. Mark went as far as kissing Jaemin’s face, pecking him wherever Jaemin couldn’t move away from fast enough. There was a shriek and then he felt the weight of another person on top of him, shoving Mark out of the way.

“You’re here! Oh my God! You’re here! You’re really you.” Donghyuck took Jaemin’s face in his hands, pinching his cheeks before kissing him on the nose. “I missed you, oh my God!”

He hugged Jaemin again before helping him up and leading him into the dorms with Mark on the other side of him. Unlike Seoul, the dorms had changed a lot. Their once gray couch was replaced by simply nothing. Instead of a couch, there was a blank spot in the room.

“I liked that couch,” Jaemin pouted. 

“Oh, right. The couch,” Donghyuck laughs a little bit. “Uh. I trashed it after you left. We just never got around to replacing it.”

Jaemin bit his lip and continued to examine the dorms. The place was empty. Paintings, pictures, plants, blankets. All gone.

He walked upstairs to his bedroom. It was the only place that had gone untouched. His bed was just as he had left it, made with his pillows on top. His books were still in place, his plants were still alive, clothes he’d left behind still on the top of his dresser.

It was like he’d never left. 

Someone behind him cleared their throat. Jaemin spun around on his heel and came face to face with Huang Renjun. He loved Mark and Donghyuck, Hell, maybe a part of him was _in love_ with them. But, Huang Renjun was his best friend. 

If there were a heaven on earth, it was Renjun. Jaemin toppled into him, not caring that Renjun was smaller than him. Renjun didn’t care either and held Jaemin, steading them against the wall.

“You reek of alcohol,” Renjun muttered, voice muffled by Jaemin’s shoulder.

“Where’s the familiar smell of booze?” Jaemin asked, avoiding the topic of his own drunkness. He sniffed and Renjun smelled like cologne. He smelled good, but different. When he thought about it, the whole house smelled different.

Renjun pulled away and Jaemin examined him carefully, thoroughly. He was different. Renjun’s hair was black now, a drastic change from the blond from before. “We haven’t done promotions in months, Jaemin. We haven’t recorded music, even practiced in months. We went into hiatus, practically disbandment. W-we got clean.”

Jaemin raised his eyebrows. “Clean?”

“Yeah. Without all the pressure, Donghyuck got off the ecstasy. Almost killed him, hence the missing couch. Mark was worse but eventually tapered off the coke. We haven’t gotten drunk in months. Weed a little bit. Mostly recreationally though. You smell terrible. When’s the last time you showered?” Renjun smiled at him. A real smile, one that Jaemin hadn’t seen in so long. Long before he disappeared. It looked good on him. Really good.

“Guess we have a lot catch up on,” Jaemin replied. 

They ended up sitting in Renjun’s room. Donghyuck and Mark and Renjun all huddled around Jaemin, practically suffocating him. But, it was home. It was safe. After everything, they’d been through, all the pain and suffering. They were his home. His best friends. 

“Where should I start?” Jaemin asked them, playing with his fingers.

“Wherever you want,” Renjun offered, holding Jaemin’s hand while Mark rubbed the nape of his neck soothingly, the way he did before. 

Jaemin took a deep breath. “I met a boy. An extraordinary boy named Lee Jeno.”

Donghyuck, the genius he was, grinned. “You’re in love with him.”

“How’d you know?” 

“Your smile. Mark hyung looks at me the same way,” Hyuck smirked at Mark’s flushed cheeks. “Renjun too.”

“Oh?” Jaemin looked at the three of them. The dynamics had shifted, changed subtly. 

“Guess we have a lot to catch up on,” Renjun repeated, shrugging his shoulders with Jaemin’s gaze on him. “So, Lee Jeno, huh?”

And, Jaemin went on and on about Jeno. He told them everything. The good and the bad. The way Jeno smiled and the way he yelled when they fought. Because they did fight. Mostly about trivial things, like how Jaemin never put the dishes away or how Jeno avoided laundry at all costs. Things that came with living with someone. Good things. Mundane things. Simple things.

They listened intently. Laughed at the funny parts. Grinned during the good parts. Smirked and whooped when Jaemin talked about how good of a kisser Jeno was. And, they cried when Jaemin started to cry again. Leaving Lee Jeno. 

“That can’t be how the story ends,” Mark yelped when Jaemin stopped talking. “Tell me there’s more, Jaemin. Please.”

Jaemin just shook his head. “I made him a promise, hyung. I-I promised him I wouldn’t hurt him again, and I won’t break that. Our story is over.”

“It can’t be,” Hyuck wiped his tears, snuggled into Renjun’s side. “Jaemin, you love him. That means something. Even to people like us.”

“What does it mean, though? Really? If I love him, I have to stay away from him. That’s the only way.”

Hyuck shook his head. “Jaemin, you have to have a reason to keep going every day. You ran away because you didn’t have that. You have to have a reason to wake up every morning and do _this_. Jeno is your reason, and you can’t tell me that you’ll be able to wake up at the crack of dawn every morning and practice until you can’t feel a single bone in your body without him.”

Jaemin just shrugged his shoulders, rubbing his temples. “Donghyuck, the only thing that will keep me going is knowing that no fan knows who he is. I-I-I can’t watch him be destroyed. I _can’t_.”

Mark squeezed Jaemin’s shoulders. “What did you leave him with? What does the second letter say?”

“The truth.”

Mark, Renjun, and Hyuck took turns narrating the last six months of their lives. The first month was the craziest thing they had ever experienced. Nobody knew what to think. But, Renjun knew. And, he knew not to worry. 

They stayed home. Two months in, Renjun was clean. Donghyuck stopped needing the energy, but his body needed the drug. He was dependent and desperate and mean without it. But, Renjun pulled him through it. The couch was destroyed in the process. Mark followed around the fourth month. 

It had been peaceful since. Their management stopped caring about them. The fans never did.

“They’ve got something planned already,” Mark mumbled, distaste clear as could be. “VLive for Jaemin. Press conference. Promotions. Talk shows. Eventually, that tour we promised.”

Silence. No one knew what to say then. Nobody in the group had realized that with the return of Na Jaemin also came the revival of Dream Suites. No one wanted it, but contracts were contracts. They were Renjun, Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Mark. But they were Dream Suites members first. Idols working for a company.

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin said, staring at his fingers.

“Don’t be sorry,” Renjun held Jaemin’s face in his hands. “Don’t be sorry. We’re so glad you’re back. It’s not your fault.”

Jaemin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just...you guys got clean. You guys are better because I was gone and now I’m back. I don’t want you guys to go back to being like that. I-I don’t want us to go back to being like that.”

But, they knew better than anyone what fame did to a person. They knew that no matter how much you wanted something, there were never any guarantees. Not one.

+

They talked for a few more hours before Renjun, Hyuck, and Mark leave to file into the same bedroom. Jaemin was left alone. He hadn’t been alone in months. Not with Jeno sleeping next to him since the night he moved in.

He couldn’t anticipate how sleeping in his own bedroom, his own bed in his own home would affect him. He never thought the nightmares would come back. He probably should have expected it.

_“I never loved you,” Jeno snarled, lip curling like he couldn’t even stand the mere thought of loving Jaemin. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. A fucking crack whore.”_

_Jaemin stood there and he took it like he always did._

_“Just die. No one gives a fuck about you. No one loves you, Na Jaemin. They never have. And, they never will.”_

Jaemin didn’t realize he was screaming until he felt the warmth of another body shushing him. He gasped, breathing broken and chest heavy. 

“I got you, Nana. You’re okay,” Mark’s voice was so comforting and Jaemin fell into his arms, despite the sweat. The heat coming from Mark was enough to help him calm down, to ease his screaming, but he was so cold and shivering. “Have you had nightmares since tour?”

Jaemin shook his head, throat dry and scratchy.

“Are you clean?”

Jaemin doesn’t answer, more than one part of him ashamed. He was living such a good life, but he couldn’t give up the cocaine. 

“When was your last hit?” Mark asked like it was the most normal thing in the world. For them, it probably was up there.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin sobbed, fingernails clawing at the sheets. “Hyung, please. Make it stop. I-I can’t do it. I can’t withdraw right now. M-Mark!”

Mark Lee didn’t have one clue what to do. His own cleanse had been painful—no, fuck that, it was so excruciating he believed slitting his own throat would’ve been less painful—but, he was done. He was done with fame, with promotions. And, with the thought of going on stage, his own skin crawls with the need for a pill. He had half a mind to push Jaemin out of the way and snort the coke himself. He reminded himself he'd been clean for so long...

“Hyung, there’s some in my bag. I can’t do it. I won’t make it. I’ll die. _Please_.” 

It was so desperate and weak and broken that Mark cracked. He knew it was a bad idea, one that would end up biting him in the ass big time, but Jaemin was the youngest. Their maknae. Their baby. He had watched him suffer in this state of bleary and drowsy that the ecstasy put him in. That alone was enough.

Jaemin’s sobbing and writhing, begging and groaning put him over the edge.

“Okay, Nana. Okay, I got you. I know. I know.” Mark lied Jaemin on the bed and stumbled toward his backpack. He dug around for a few seconds and eventually the found the baggie of coke. He went back to Jaemin and held him up. “I have it.”

“Gimme,” Jaemin grabbed at it and moaned when he got his fingers on the bag. He pushed Mark away and staggered before he made it to his bathroom. He fumbled with the baggie before dumping it on the counter and grabbing some random blade from the cabinet he didn’t even realize was there. When he thought about it, it was probably there for this same reason.

He cut four lines, fingers trembling the entire time before he dropped the blade on the floor. Mark walked into the bathroom, inhaling hard when he saw the drugs. “Jaemin. Are you stupid? You’re not snorting all of that.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. He leaned down, finger pressed against his right nostril. He snorted the first line, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He went back for the second line and found no resistance from Mark. When he bent down for his third line, Mark stopped him.

“Jaemin. Stop,” Mark grabbed Jaemin’s wrist, but the younger just pulled away, nearly breaking his wrist in the process. 

“Mark hyung,” Jaemin muttered, eyes filled with tears and nose white. “Why?”

“Why what, Jaemin?” 

Mark had seen broken. God, he’d seen Donghyuck trying to break his own bones getting clean. He’d seen broken and far worse. But, he’d never seen anyone who looked the way Jaemin looked, like someone who had a reason to live, but that reason to live was also killing them. Full cycle kind of shit. You find someone who shows you all the colors of the world, lets you taste all the flavors, smell all the scents, but at a price. And, that price is your own sanity.

“Why are they killing me? What did I do to deserve this?” Jaemin looked at the cocaine in front of him, eyes pleading.

“Nothing, Nana. Nothing.” 

That was always the case. They found a boy with big dreams and a hopeful heart. They took him and they destroyed him. They created a person with coke pumping through their veins, hearts pumping because of the drugs. They created a person who lived for the drugs, therefore performed for the money that brought said drugs in. Full circle.

Jaemin nodded his head. Mark watched carefully before making a split-second decision. He swept the rest of the coke into the air, watching the particles float in the air. Jaemin screamed so loud you’d think he was screaming Bloody Mary. He fell to his knees, trying to collect the white powder.

Mark tried to help him up, but he didn’t move. Mark could only do so much and after the fifth scratch he received from Jaemin, he left. Jaemin sat there the rest of the night, mind torn between screaming curse words at Mark and begging for him to come back. He fell asleep on the tile floor, head pounding and heart yearning for someone—anyone—to take his pain away. When cocaine failed, Lee Jeno had always done it. And, without both doing their best to keep Jaemin from spiraling, he wasn’t sure what else he could do.

+

“Don’t touch your face,” the makeup artist snapped, slapping Jaemin’s hand away from his newly bronzed cheek.

“It fucking itches,” he snarled, scratching despite her protests. He really didn’t give a fuck. He was decked out in a stupid outfit, one he would never wear and he didn’t understand why they forced him to. Stupid denim overalls that make him want to throw up on himself and smear it around just so his manager would throw up too and let him take it off.

“Jaemin,” his manager barked, clipboard and walkie-talkie in hand. “Sit the fuck down at stop touching your face.”

“I don’t want to do a fucking VLive.” Jaemin was mad and he was high, never a good combination. He hadn’t heard from Jeno in a week, a week being since he left him alone. He missed him. He was tired. Today was not the day. No day was really the day, but today was high on the list of _I Will Kill Myself If You Force Me Out_ There days.

“We’ve been delaying it for days. Five fucking minutes. You sit there and you tell the fans you missed them and you love them. You tell them you will explain to them soon, but until then you hope they will support you. That’s all you have to do.” His manager was relentless, especially now that Jaemin had given up his sit down and shut up attitude from before he left. This Jaemin got fucking bold.

Renjun, Mark, and Donghyuck are already done. Jaemin forgot what they were like sober. He missed when they would fight with him, to rebel in any way possible. He didn’t like having to face their manager alone. He was used to Donghyuck being fucking impossible and Mark fighting with him, therefore distracting the manager enough Jaemin could sneak a couple hits before going to do a VLive or variety show.

“When does my contract fucking expire,” Jaemin groaned as he let his shoulders slump in on themselves, making him look absurdly small. “I’m fucking sick of you.”

“You still have four years with me, honey,” his manager smirked. “So, if I were you I’d do as your bandmates did and fucking accept it.”

“I would’ve thought running away would get me fired.”

“All it gets you is another bodyguard. Go do your VLive before I lose it and overdose you myself.”

“Even overdose is better than this.”

“Then, I’ll cut you off cold-turkey.”

Jaemin shut up at that and walked to the room they were doing their live stream in. He sat in between Renjun and Donghyuck, brushing off their attempts at comforting touches. He knew he was being a brat, but he didn’t give a fuck. He just wanted to go home.

The VLive started and none of them knew how to act. Renjun, Hyuck, and Mark hadn’t been sober in years and they were different. Everything was different, but Jaemin. Jaemin was the same, just meaner in a way that nobody had expected.

They broke the record of viewers to watch a VLive. There had to be a million people watching, two million eyes prying and hopeful for a comeback or something. The general consensus was that the hiatus was brutal on the fans. They were broken by Jaemin’s disappearance and then his reappearance. They were excited, scared. 

Mark did all the talking. He looked at Jaemin and the younger grit out his lines, trying his best to put on his charming little smile. He bet it looked more like a grimace, but nobody could blame him. His fans were just overjoyed he was back. 

They were more curious than happy, in his opinion. They wanted to know what happened, why he had disappeared. They wanted a story, one that would break Naver. Jaemin didn’t have one to give them and he prayed to God that Jeno didn’t give them one.

He knew Jeno would never, but unfortunately, those thoughts he’d spent months trying to talk down came back in less than a week. Suddenly, he only saw the worst in people again. Maybe because he only ever saw the worst sides of people. Because when he looked in the mirror, he could only see the worst person he’d ever known. Himself.

He smiled when he was supposed to. Laughed when cued. Frowned when told. He did it all right, followed the script to a tee. He was the perfect little idol.

When the VLive finally ended, Jaemin could tell his band was cracking everywhere. He felt this guilt wash over him in waves, drowning him. He’d come back and ruined everything. It was probably better off for them when he was gone. And, Jeno was better off without him. Maybe he was better off—

“Jaemin? C’mon, we have to go,” Renjun’s voice rang out. He blinked a few times before standing up and leaving. 

The second he was home, he was in the bathroom cutting a couple lines and snorting them, ignoring Renjun’s calls after him. He always felt better when he snorted. And, then he felt worse. And, then he did it all over again. He needed to forget, to numb the pain. He didn’t want happy, he just wanted a little less agony, a little less torture. That’s all he asked for, but he doubted he’d ever receive it. He was Na Jaemin and even in those very rare, far spaced moments of sweet relief, he was always suffering. He’d grown used to it, learned to live with it. But, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh pls comment!! nothing is too long/short pretty please with cherries on top. hopefully you guys are enjoying??? i feel like this progressively gets worse and worse eeek.
> 
> my question: why did jaemin return home when he could've gone anywhere else?
> 
> i don't think i even have an answer for this one. i think it's up for a lot of interpretations. 
> 
> oh, i guess i have another question: did you guys feel a shift in jaemin's character? a change? i'm honestly just curious hehe
> 
> okay!!
> 
> until next time :D
> 
> with love,
> 
> \- liv <3


	9. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voicemails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore the typos.
> 
> enjoy.

—one week later—

Two hundred text messages and fifty voicemails.

That was how many times Jeno had called and texted since Jaemin left. 

And, Jaemin was a fucking wreck over it. Every new voicemail, he’d sit and replay it a hundred times. He’d memorize every word, every crack in Jeno’s voice, every time the older would sniffle. It was painful, torture molded of tears and broken sobs. 

Renjun had enough of it. “I’m going to change your fucking phone number if you don’t stop replaying that voicemail.”

Jaemin looked up from his phone and pressed pause, stopping Jeno’s strung out voice. “You have no control over that.”

“Watch me.” Renjun walked over to him and snatched the phone from Jaemin’s hands so fast the younger barely blinked before he was empty handed.

Curse Renjun’s speed.

Jaemin grabbed at the phone, but came up empty handed as usual. “Listen to him, Jun. He’s...God. He’s a mess. He’s-“

“And?” Renjun gave him a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. “You made your decision. You decided to leave and that broke you. You can’t expect to heal in the same place that broke you.”

“Deep.”

“Tumblr poetry.” Renjun shrugged. 

“I don’t give a shit about healing,” Jaemin sat on the bed exasperated and frustrated, hair tangled in his fingers as he tugged on it. “I care about him Renjun. And, just because I left him doesn’t mean I suddenly stop loving him.”

“Why are you listening to that voicemail over and over? What the fuck are you gaining, Nana?” Renjun’s voice was soft, like Jaemin was delicate and easily broken. Like the younger was dressed in bubble wrap and had do not break stickers all over. Too bad it was far too late.

“It’s a reminder, Jun. That some part of it was real. That almost everything about it was real. The important parts were real.” Jaemin sighed. “It reminds me why I’m even ignoring him, why I’m even here after all. I keep going to protect him.”

Renjun nodded. He knew it was toxic, poison that was living and breathing, poison which could kill with a single teardrop. But, nothing would stop Jaemin from doing what he wanted, something he had proved on multiple accounts. “Lee Jeno.,.”

Jaemin stopped playing with his fingers to look up, practically breaking his neck. “Yeah?”

“Do you regret it?”

There was a pause. Brief. Sharp. “ I have a million regrets, Jun. But, he’s not one. And he’ll never be one.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d slit my wrists before I let something so bad happen that I regret falling in love with him. You know, Injun. The thing about love is that it makes you blind. But, I think it made my world so much clearer, you know?”

Renjun smiled sadly. “I know, Nana. I know.”

What Renjun meant by that, Jaemin would probably never really know for sure. If he were to ask Renjun later, the older would probably just answer with a shrug. Renjun sat down next to Jaemin, phone long forgotten to both of them.

Jaemin liked talking to Renjun. He made him think.

“What would you do differently? You know, disappearing and all that?”

“I would’ve told you guys before hand. I-I was so far gone at that point. I hated life. And, sadly you guys were part of it.” Jaemin smiled at Renjun doefully. 

Renjun only shrugged. “I would have gotten out of the country. Kinda fucked that one up.”

Jaemin laughed and leaned his head against Renjun’s shoulder. “You’re a thousand percent right.”

+

They were halfway through their fifth practice for their upcoming comeback stage when Jaemin got another voicemail. He was dying to listen to it, but Hyuck grabbed his wrist before he could reach it.

“You need to change your number, Jaemin,” Mark said, stepping between Jaemin and his phone. “You know how it is. Stuff is going to get leaked if you don’t stop contact with him. People always find out.”

Jaemin wiped the sweat off his brow, bitterly biting the inside of his cheek. “They won’t. Not him. I won’t let them,” Jaemin snapped. He had fire in his eyes, smoke practically coming out of his ear.s

Donghyuck scuffed. Jaemin had a temper, way before the group had debuted. He was sweet, but cruel. Mark avoided it Jaemin when he was mad at all costs. Renjun tried to be the mediator. But, Donghyuck wasn’t afraid to fight with him.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t act so naive. You don’t think the fans that found you because of a fucking picture won’t find him too? You say you’re protecting him but you’re putting him in just as much danger from when you lived with him. Maybe even more.” Donghyuck loved being right and Jaemin hated being wrong. Hence, why Jaemin tackled the older to the floor.

“Don’t say that.” It came out so vehemently, hatred filled and more than anything _defeated_. “Don’t say I’m putting him in danger when I’m trying my best,” Jaemin’s voice was barely above a whisper, eyes closed and tears rolling down his cheeks. The old Jaemin hated crying. This Jaemin even more so. Because this Jaemin knew the reason he cried was because someone with the name of Lee Jeno had changed him and there was no going back to that person again. There was only aching and longing for them, begging for them in his sleep, and hoping that somehow they simultaneously fuck off and come back to him.

Hyuck gave in and pulled Jaemin close to him. “I’m sorry, Nana. I’m so sorry.”

And, he was. They all understood suffering. It united them, brought them together in a way it would never bring them closer to anyone else in the whole world. Seven billion people lived on earth, but only Hyuck, Mark, Jaemin, and Renjun would fathom how horrible and rewarding it was to be them. They were ever so lucky. And, very much so unlucky.

Far more unlucky, in Jaemin’s opinion.

+

“Dream Suites member Na Jaemin seems to have engaged in a homosexual relationship during his mystery disappearance. Our source informs us that his boyfriend was Lee Jeno, nineteen year old from a town in the outskirts of Seoul. Our source has sent us pictu-”

“Turn it off,” Renjun demanded and Mark shut the TV off immediately, stopping the video. They all turned their attention to Jaemin who was sat still in his seat, shocked and confused. The silence was so loud. His phone started ringing, breaking the tension.

He looked down at it and then back up to Renjun, eyes wide and watery. “Jeno.”

The phone continued to ring. And, ring. Jaemin didn’t have the heart to send him to voicemail. No one in his band did either.

It stopped and Jeno left a voicemail. 

Jaemin decided to play it aloud for all of them. It was most likely going to be intimate, but his members had seen so much of him. They’d seen his worst moments, heard his mom call him and ask for money for drugs and then proceed to call him a bitch faced slut whore who should die when he denied. They’d seen intimate and much more.

“I left the house and went to my job. There were all these people following me. Paparazzi taking pictures. I’m just so confused, Jaem—sorry, Jaemin. I turned on the TV when I went home and I saw the news, my face all over. I just don’t understand what’s happening. I know you're an idol, but you need to call me back. You need to help me. I can’t leave this fucking house. I can’t go anywhere without an audience. Call me, please. I don’t give a fuck about being outed, about the people who might hate me or whatever. I care about you. After everything, I love you. I’m so mad, so hurt. But, I still love you. Call me.”

Jaemin looked up from his lap and met the eyes of Renjun, who was in tears. Desperation, loss, fear. It rang so clear, cut straight through them.

“What do I do?” Jaemin whispered, asking all of them.

No one spoke up. No one knew.

+

“You fucked up,” his manager told him the second he walked into the conference room.

“Fuck off.” He sat down, Renjun and Donghyuck on either side of him.

“You're a fucking idiot for never telling us about _Lee Jeno_.”

The way his manager even uttered Jeno’s name made Jaemin mad. Hyuck touched his tender arm and Jaemin relaxed the slightest bit.

“You returning to the spotlight continues to be the biggest fucking pain in my ass. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to rehearse for your comeback next week. You’re going to block Lee Jeno. You’re going to never, ever think about contacting him again. And, you’re going to keep quiet when I tell you the story we’re selling the media.”

Jaemin didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. He wanted to strangle someone so badly. 

“We’re telling them that Lee Jeno used you. He manipulated you to leave the band. He manipulated you to use money on him. And, he never, ever loved you. And, you never loved him. It was all fake. It traumatized you. But, in the end none of it matters. Not Lee Jeno. Nothing.”

Jaemin didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. He cried.

+

The story from his company went out the next day. He didn’t receive any calls or texts from Lee Jeno.

But, in a drunken, blurry state, Jaemin found his phone under his bed next to the bottles of rum he stole. He typed in his password several times before the phone unlocked.

He clicked Jeno’s name in his contacts, the contact he was supposed to block but didn’t. He typed a message, eyes hooded and fingers trembling.

He pressed send. Then, he blocked Lee Jeno for good. No matter the hurt, he knew he had to do it.

And, on the receiving end of his text was Lee Jeno, who was laying in a sweatshirt Jaemin left behind in the sheets he hadn’t changed because they smelled like the boy who abandoned him. 

Two words can be a poem. Six words can tell a story.

_i’m so drunk. i’m so sorry._

+

Comeback. A word Jaemin couldn’t escape. He wished he could so bad.

The stage was a different story. He hadn’t stepped a foot on a stage in so long. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to handle it.

But, when they offered him a line a coke before their first pre-comeback promotion he realized how he had done it before. How he would do it again.

“What if there’s a black ocean?” Mark thought aloud as they drove to their next venue.

Black ocean. Even the word made Jaemin shudder.

“There won’t be,” Renjun reassured. “...Right?”

The infamous black ocean. Jaemin shrugged, a vain attempt to distract himself from his racing heart. 

The black ocean in Kpop is what it sounds like. A completely black, silent crowd as a performance goes on. One of the worst things an idol could ever experience. For the people who are supposed to support you to go quiet, to go dark.

“There’s no way,” Hyuck said, touching Mark’s cheek affectionately. “No way.”

Jaemin chuckled. “You never know with our fans. One second they love us, but who knows. By tomorrow they might be wishing we’re dead.”

Renjun smiled. “Probably won’t have to wish too hard. Your liver might give out on you, Jaemin.”

“I’ll drink until the day I die,” Jaemin said as the car pulled to stop.

“I’ll drink to that.” Mark grinned and Donghyuck smacked him on the shoulder.

Jaemin felt relieved for once, even if it was just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t forget to comment! no comment is too long or short. 
> 
> question: do you foresee a happy ending? if there is one, what is it? can there even be one?
> 
> twitter: flirtmarkno
> 
> until next time. 
> 
> yours,
> 
> — liv


	10. nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being gone so long;(((( 
> 
> this chapter hurts. so, just be ready for that.
> 
> please ignore the typos, i'll edit some day
> 
> i listened to like i can by sam smith while writing it
> 
> i hope you enjoy...

—two weeks later—

There had always been something about the stage that changed him. Jaemin was more than sure that there was something about the stage that changed everybody. Under the lights, under the stares of fans, it forced a person to put on a face and suck it the fuck up.

Their first comeback was with a song they had recorded almost a year before he left as a rough draft. They spent the past few months redoing it and relearning how to dance. It was something Jaemin hadn’t missed one bit.

But, as he stood in front of the crowd as people as they were about to do the first run of their comeback, Jaemin felt different. It was such an out of body experience like he was there but he wasn't He forgot what the high of it was like. It was almost as good as drugs.

The fanchants, the waving lightsticks, the desperate eyes. All parts of a drug far more addicting than heroin. Every in his band knew it was more than good. It was a fucking amazing feeling, one that nothing could ever really beat.

He couldn’t believe that his fans supported them the same way they had from before he had left. He’d seen the hatred, the pain, the anger he had caused. He saw it all. Yet, when push came to shove, they loved him more than they hated him.

Knowing that put him on top of the world. And, begrudgingly, he would admit it gave him this sick bubble of hope. If people who claimed to love him could forgive him, surely, one day, Lee Jeno could do the same.

+

Jaemin had never been one to write songs. He usually left that up to Mark. So, the very few songs written by Mark (and Renjun or Donghyuck) that they had been allowed to put on their album never had Jaemin’s name on the written by list.

But, when he came back, everything changed. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop writing songs. No matter how long or short, cruel or sweet, hip-hop or r&b, Jeno wormed his way into the lines. It wasn’t fair, but Jeno didn’t care. Well, the Jeno that lived in Jaemin’s brain unapologetically. 

He was given access to their social media for an hour every couple of days after he pledged his allegiance to the company. He had to prove he wouldn’t do anything to fuck them over, and with the drugs coming from one place, he had no room to argue. He was slowly getting his freedom, or whatever fucked up version his company wanted to call it.

When he really thought about it, freedom was just a word. Freedom didn’t mean shit unless you gave it a meaning...unless it was something that you wanted so bad you’d die for it. That sort of shit was what made freedom matter. And, what even was freedom without Jeno? Jaemin could be let out of his contract, allowed to live the most mundane life with a shitty office job and a dog in a crappy little apartment in downtown Seoul. He could be _free_. But none of that mattered without Jeno. 

So, dreaming of his so-called “freedom” became useless, and he was instead forced to write songs where Jeno became the final destination, the ill-fated illusion, and his saddest desire. If viable, a person should never become one’s only hope, their happy place when shit went sour, or their holy grail. But, Jaemin never gave a fuck.

Instead, he wanted everyone to know he was still in fucking love. He didn’t have much left to lose. His fans already knew about Jeno, had already done their worst and continued to do so every single day. Whether or not Jaemin confirmed nor denied his relationship with Jeno, his fans already tore him apart. 

And, he was already a priority to his company. They couldn’t fire him even if they wanted to. Not unless they wanted millions of angry fans rioting at their doors. 

Hence, why Jaemin posted a snippet of a song he wrote on Twitter. Mark played guitar, and Jaemin sang, which was rarer than hearing Donghyuck curse on screen (ergo, never).

It was ten seconds long. But, everyone knew who it was for. 

Jaemin hoped Jeno for some reason got Twitter, or had friends who had Twitter, so he could see. Jaemin wanted Jeno to know.

+

The world tour was put into motion three months after their comeback. Two months later, they were performing their first concert in Seoul. Not much had changed in five months. Jaemin still cried about Jeno daily, only his members got sick of him because he was so coked out. They couldn’t say shit though, because Mark was back on his molly high and Donghyuck was always out of it doing whatever drugs he did. Not even Renjun could keep up with the relentless schedule sober and he turned to weed to help him.

Jaemin hated it. He hated that it turned out that way, but it was only fitting. He left something that was killing him and he returned six months later so it could finish him off. 

Seoul was beautiful. The Seoul Olympic Stadium was beautiful. It was still crazy to him that they had sold the venue out. He was backstage, coke on the table in front of him, when his manager came running into the room, frantically yelling at security.

“What?” Jaemin asked, not too worried about anything. 

His manager looked him dead in the eyes in frowned. “There are rumors going around on Twitter.”

“And?” Jaemin was impatient and rolled his eyes. He just wanted his coke in peace.

“Lee Jeno is here.”

Jaemin felt like all the air was knocked out of his chest. 

_If Lee Jeno is here, he’s going to be mobbed. He’s going to get him hurt. He’s going to--_

“Get him out of here!” Jaemin snapped, coke long forgotten. “What the fuck are you doing just standing here? Do you want me to go get him myself?”

“Extra security is being sent to his section. We aren’t bringing him back here, Jaemin. we aren’t drawing more attention to him. The scandal is finally starting to die down.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even hear yourself? You give more fucks about that stupid fucking scandal than you do about a living, breathing person? You know he’s going to get jumped! You fucking know it, yet you’re putting _extra security_ like that does shit?” Jaemin kicked the table over, watching the powder blow around the room. “By the way, I need more coke.”

His manager just stared at him, powerless, and shook their head before leaving the room, radioing for more cocaine.

Jaemin sat on the couch in the dressing room, scrolling through his phone while he waited for makeup to tell him it’s time to get started.

Two hours later, he was on stage. The set up was huge, three walkways that connected to one square platform in the middle of the stadium. He wanted to look for Jeno, but he didn’t. He knew Jeno was sitting in the section closest to the platform because there was so much security there, he could barely see the actual fans.

He was relieved, sort of. Nobody is ever completely at ease knowing the person they love is more than likely going to get jumped.

The first hour of the concert was great. He was energetic, excited, kind of, and jumping all over the place. It felt normal. But, he was coming down from his high and then Mark pointed to a section of the crowd and Jaemin saw it.

People were moving all over the place. There was chaos and screaming and security was working on breaking people apart. 

Jaemin fucking lost it. He sprinted backstage, grabbed his manager by the wrist and yanked them toward him. “Get him out of there before I do it myself. I want him here in ten minutes before I fucking lose my shit.” His voice was so deep, it scared him.

His manager didn’t argue or protest, they just nodded and ran off to find someone to bring Jeno backstage. They called a twenty-minute break to deal with some shit, aka, their shitty attitudes as the drugs wore off. 

He heard Jeno’s voice before he saw him. He turned around in his dressing room, coke in a baggie in his hand, and was face to face with Jeno. His hair was brown, instead of black, and his face was red and he had a bruise forming around his eye.

He wanted to run to Jeno, fall into his arms and cry with relief. He didn’t. He stood there dumbly, while Jeno looked him up and down, eyes immediately catching the bag of cocaine.

“Jaemin?” Jeno whispered, confused. “What are you doing?”

Mark and Donghyuck came into the room, bottles of water in hand and packets of pills in the other.

They stopped talking when they saw Jeno standing there, staring at Jaemin with big wet, doey eyes. He turned his head to look at them and backed away when he saw the drugs they were holding.

“Oh.” Jeno sighed.

“We’ll give you some space,” Mark said and almost sprinted out of the room with Donghyuck hot on his trail.

Jaemin wanted to feel ashamed, he really did, but he just couldn’t. He also wanted to say something, maybe the well-deserved apology, or addressing the elephant in the room. He couldn't do that either.

Jeno decided to speak. “I watched your performance videos...all of them. You know, I had to see who you really were. Jaem...Jaemin, I saw more of you in a three-minute video than I saw in six months of living with you. You’re born to be a star, to be on a stage with your name in bright lights. You’re meant to be an idol,” Jeno looked at Jaemin, tears already forming in his eyes. It broke Jaemin’s already shattered heart. “I’m meant to live a small life, to make an impact on people I meet in the store and at Uni. To impact people like you. But, I’m not meant for you, Jaemin. I’m not meant for this lifestyle,” he motioned to the room, shoulders slumping like he was surrendering. “I understand that now.”

Jaemin went to speak, mouth opened and everything, but his manager busted into the room and told him he had to leave in four minutes. Jaemin nodded and took the coke out of the bag and cut it with his credit card. He felt Jeno’s eyes burning holes in his head.

When he finished, he wiped his nose and walked up to Jeno.

“Go home. I don’t want you here after the concert. I don’t want to see you here.” Jaemin was almost unrecognizable. 

Jeno didn’t get it. How could that be the Na Jaemin he fell in love with? It didn’t make any sense, not that much ever made sense when it came to Jaemin.

“B-”

“Go home,” Jaemin cut him off. “Bye, Lee Jeno.”

Then, Jaemin was rushing toward the stage entrance, makeup ladies fixing his face before pushing him onto the stage.

Two hours later, Jaemin was walking off the stage with his members when his eyes caught Jeno’s.

“I thought I told you to go home,” Jaemin growled, grabbing Jeno by the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him into the dressing room and slamming the door shut behind him. “Why don’t you fucking listen to me?”

“Because I’m not some fucking animal who listens to your every command, Jaemin,” Jeno bit back, voice hoarse. “We need to talk!”

“Don’t you get it,” Jaemin screamed. “I don’t want to talk to you. I. Don’t. Want. You. Go home, Jeno! Go back to the little rat infested, ass faced town you came from because I don’t want or need you here.”

“Y-you don’t mean it,” Jeno whimpered, defeated as fuck.

He was high as shit, thanks to the quick line he did thirty minutes before the show was supposed to end during a dressing change. Jaemin was rarely like this, high on adrenaline and coke. And, it was because when he did, he got mean. Mark, Renjun, and Donghyuck had been on the receiving end of his insults before and they told him he couldn’t go around like it anymore.

But, here they were, Jaemin having snorted an incessant amount of cocaine and Jeno sober as could be, unsure how to deal with this Jaemin. The broken abused Jaemin. The Jaemin that crumbled under pressure and used drugs to deal with it. The Jaemin that the spotlight never had the misfortune of seeing.

“I do,” Jaemin snarled, energy radiating pissed. “You’re so fucking stupid if you thought I actually loved you. You’re nothing, Jeno. You’re a fucking rodent that crawled out of the sewer, quite literally, before I saved your ass.”

And, Jeno finally fucking snapped. He was usually so patient, but his nobility was wearing thin. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh? A rich boy in a band? Well guess what, Na Jaemin, you’re nothing but a piece of shit. No wonder your fans fucking hate you. You’re an asshole—no, fuck that—you’re a dick. You’re a bitch baby who cries and gives up when shit gets hard. We all have it hard, you fucking cunt, but we keep going. God, you’re a pussy and a brat and a horrible person!”

“You’re a bitch-faced slut. I don’t know why I ever thought I loved you.” Jaemin was just spitting the meanest things he could think of, none of which were true. He needed to say something, anything. And, all his words came from the part of him that hated himself more than anything. He didn't hate Jeno. what he was saying wasn't about Jeno at all.

Jeno closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I hope you have fun rotting in hell, Na Jaemin. I hope you spend the rest of your shitty fucking life strung out on drugs. I hope you get sober and realize your life is in shambles because you broke it.”

Jaemin didn’t need to get sober to know that. He already knew.

+

A security guard Jaemin hired escorted Jeno home. And, then followed him around as he went about his life. Jaemin didn’t want to know about Jeno’s life, but he wanted the pain, so he asked questions. The security guard answered when Jaemin offered extra money.

Sometimes, Jaemin did pay extra to know how Jeno was doing. But, most times he didn’t.

The second week into his world tour, Jaemin paid money to hear about how Jeno was doing. 

He shouldn’t have.

Because Jeno kissed someone else. And, Jaemin lost it for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope i'm not gone for so long next time. there's only two chapters and an epilogue left...
> 
> i'm still torn on the ending. i guess we'll see when the time comes.
> 
> question: if jaemin loves jeno so much, how can he manage to say such cruel things to him? has jaemin changed since the beginning of the fic? is he different from the person you first read about...and if so, why? what happened to him?
> 
> until next time.
> 
> yours, 
> 
> \- liv.
> 
>  
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/flirtmarkno)
> 
>  
> 
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/marknohyuck)


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